We've spent a lot of time recently shopping for recliners. The whole idea is that since I can't sleep flat (or with my incline pillow) and it's not comfortable to sleep sitting straight up, maybe the recliner would be a nice compromise. A padded, comfy, partially reclining compromise.
Finally, (I am skipping the WHOLE long story here even though that story makes me a hero), we found a good deal on a reclining sofa and reclining loveseat set. Since the cats have been rough on the old set and the price was right for replacement, we jumped on it. They'll be delivered today, Monday. (See how tricky I am about that considering I'm writing this on Sunday night? Brilliant!)
I may have subconsciously sabotaged the early part of the search because I'm actually afraid of recliners. See, recliners (in my experience) are where old people go to die. Everyone in my mother's family either died in their recliner or spent their last few months living in the chair because they couldn't sleep flat.
Grampa scooped himself a bowl of his favorite ice cream, sat down in his recliner, major heart attack. Game over. I can't eat vanilla ice cream with cherries anymore.
Gramma had advanced emphysema due to smoking which meant no lying down flat for her. Cough cough cough! I can relate - to the coughing, not to the smoking. She lived in her recliner until her final hospital stay. Still begging for another cigarette.
Great-gramma died in her recliner at 87 years old. Not a clue who she was or where she might be but that woman loved her cookies!
See what I mean? I'm more afraid of recliners than I am of hospital beds!
This is why I think I finally agreed to Joe's over-the-top decision to buy a reclining loveseat and sofa. They may recline but they're different from the Chairs of Death.
Now if we can just get someone to buy our two perfectly-good slightly-used loveseats from us. Because 3 loveseats, 1 sofa, 1 piano, 1 entertainment cabinet and 2 crazy cats = way too much furniture for my living room.