Y’know how some folks get sentimental about the first furniture they bought on their own? This recliner wasn’t that. It was the first furniture I bought post-divorce that wasn’t strictly functional. It – and the couch I bought with it – became important to me because it was one of the first definitive events of me coming out of my post-divorce (admittedly, self-diagnosed) depression.

I slept in that recliner many a night because of my shoulders. Other than showing comfyness, that statement wouldn’t be important – but it was. My previous girlfriend got upset over the fact that I would leave the bed to go sleep in the recliner. The Wife? She just laid down on the couch – which was admittedly also comfy – and slept next to me. She just wanted me to be comfortable. It was one of those myriad of small things that demonstrated why she was destined to become The Wife.

I moved it down to Parrish, and would continue to sleep in it. The recliner didn’t fare particularly well in a household of cats. There’s a reason pretty much all of our furniture is leather or leather-adjacent. Some new coverings helped, as there were still several nights where I slept there. When The Wife scored me a better recliner at her then-job, I was still hesitant to part with the old recliner.

When we moved to Ward Manor, the recliner went into my office. And there it truly became the domain of our cats. Our little vampire cat liked to hide under it when there was too much company for her to be downstairs. Our big orange cat used it as one of his main sleeping spots. Particularly when I was also in the office.

All good things must come to an end. Wear and tear finally caught up. Since we had someone coming to take a bunch of big items to the dump, we decided it was time. The recliner came down. Fortunately without too much hassle. A club chair that we’ve had bouncing around the house is now in its spot. The orange cat is letting us know in no uncertain terms he doesn’t like the change.

Recliner’s gone, but the memories remain.