FRUGAL RESOLVE: whose I am

The soft morning light spills into the great room to belie what four hundred dollars did not resolve.

Replacing one large sofa can empty our bank account of that amount times two. But we own TWO large sofas purchased ten years ago. Lately their seat cushions remember how heavy we've been and make us relive their anguish whenever we attempt to relax on them. Personally I fought back by smothering the cushion I sat on with a white, feather-filled bed pillow. Not the Better Homes and Garden solution, I realize, but it eased my sore bums. As for MBH and the family, the better solution was paying the local upholstery shop to refill the cushions with NASA inspired foam, resilient yet firm.

Buddy, my Maria, and Mom enjoyed the foam seating the two days our beloved was away on yet another business trip. Last night, however, MBH finally cast his structural analytical eyes and hands on the fix. He demanded I return the cushions and get them fixed.

This morning light can’t soften the collapsed edges and rippled fabric that extra batting didn’t fill. I don’t look forward to confronting the owner to demand it be redone. He’s taller than I. He’s owned his reputable store for decades. I want MBH to go in for me, but he is too busy with too much work (thank God for work).   So like a good patriot, I have to ask for a redress for our grievance.

I realize that our grievance seems petty in a world of quaking ills in 8.1 magnitudes. But I don’t need to rage to have my problem resolved. I don’t need my family to march to the store like a Greek mob. Neither do I need to go off the debt deep end, as my inner shopper deems, toss the old sofas out, and insist the store replace them with aniline leather wrapped, NASA foamed, eight-way hand-tied spring sofas crafted in the USA. For free.

No way! I am not a leech. I am a child of the Heavenly Provider.

As I conclude this blog, the manager still doesn’t know my grievance. “Ask,” the Bible prompts me to do in a way that honors my Eternal Parent. It’s up to me to simply express my grievance for a frugal resolution. The store opens in half an hour. Time to get ready to do the right thing.

Is it that time,  for you?