The Hammock Chair Lives On

Sometimes I write my blog posts here. 

A few days ago, on Reasonably Well's facebook page, I put up a few pictures from a devastating event: the collapse of my hammock chair.

Oh, my. Allow me a minute, here. Sniff.......Sob.... it was very traumatic.....::Kleenex eye dab::.

OK. I'm back.

I'm happy to report that the story has a happy ending. It all went down (har har har) like this:

I've written many times before about my love of my hammock swing. I've posted a zillion pictures of my feet sticking out of it's knotty confines as I hang around the back yard.

Like this. 

Lulu likes my swing too.

Heck. I even sit in the thing when it's raining. 

So the story begins as I'm in my usual swinging spot; firmly ensconced in my chair which hangs from underneath our deck.

Like this.

We have a daylight basement so the ground story deck is actually the second story when you look at our house from the back. Whew....this is too confusing......I may need to come back to rewrite this part after another cuppa coffee.......

Anyway, it was a beautiful evening and I was all blissful and swinging and everything when BAM!!

My hinder hit the ground. It wasn't pretty, especially when I noticed that my chair was broken because one of the key knots in the jute cords had come undone.

Wah!! I love my hammock chair!! I can't live without my hammock chair!!

John came running outside, certain that I had amputated a leg or something. "Babe! Are you all right?"

NO. I am NOT ALL RIGHT. My chair broke!

I can't adequately explain how much this chair means to me. Seriously. When I stretch out in this chair, I feel weightless, almost like I'm floating. It's suspended from a very sturdy bolt and a heavy duty spring so that I can float and boing-boing-boing to my heart's content. That floaty and boingy sensation is beyond comfortable for me. I'd almost say it's therapeutic.

Now Terese? She can't stand sitting in my chair because she says it makes her car sick.

Pshaw.

It rejuvenates and refreshes me more than just about anything. I don't know why. But it works, and so I was panicked when my backside hit the ground and I realized the chair was broken. I had whipped out my phone and was on Google shopping for a new one by the time John had heard me whining and came out to investigate.

He looked closely at the pile of tangled cords. "I think I can fix this, hon."

No, you can't. I'm ordering a new one. ASAP.

"Well, if we need to, sure. But just give me a minute or two to see if I can save this one."

I rolled my eyes and headed over to a ordinary boring lawn chair to keep scrolling through the Amazon site. I heard him muttering and talking to himself as I was wondering whether to go with the natural cotton fiber one again or a polyester cord swing when he straightened up and shot me a triumphant look.

"Check this out, Jul! It's FIXED!"

I looked at it with amazement. How did he do that?! I wondered. I mean, he had to practically re-weave a whole chunk of the thing to get it back together. And then re-tie that very, very important knot that kept it hanging from the wooden spacer bar.

"C'mon! Try it out!"

I gingerly sat down.

SPLAT! OWIE!!

"Hm. I think I need to re-engineer that knot....."

I rubbed my smarting buns. No kidding.

I was enlisted to hold this and that and hang on to the whatchamacallit, after which John beamed with pride. "It's fixed for SURE, this time, honey! Get in!"

I looked the chair over skeptically. Are you sure?

"Trust me, babe!"

WHAM!! OOF!! This made three -- count 'em -- THREE times that my backside hit the dirt.

We were not amused.

John tried really hard to stifle his chortles, which I found tremendously irritating.

OK. ANY gratitude I may have had for you trying to fix this thing is SO gone now that you're laughing at me!

"I'm sorry, hon, really I am. I was so sure that knot would hold. Here. Hold this while I try to tie it up again."

No.

"Aw, sugar, please? I promise that I'll be the one to test it next time."

I reluctantly resumed my hold-this pose.

Minutes later, John was swinging and boinging vigorously. "I did it! See? All better! Your turn!"

Hm. Carefully, I eased my bruised buns into the chair. Sigh. Ahhhhhhhh.........

OK. He's a genius. I admit it.