休閑長椅的“悲歌”

A few years ago， Mrs. G and I decided that the perfect medium for relaxing at home in the summer would be a pair of wooden lawn chairs， or what the French call “chaise longues”.

I think they call them “chaise lounges”here， but the phrase doesn’t sit well with me. I may as well curl up on a “fainting couch” the next time I want to have a nap， or start calling raincoats “slickers.”

Every year， we wheel these chairs out from the garage and into the backyard in anticipation of the many relaxing moments that will be stolen out of otherwise 1）hectic days.

This year is no exception， but they’ve been parked on the lawn for about a month now， and nobody has sat on them. Not even once. The odd thing is that they look so inviting； the most comfortable thing in the world， actually （but I said that about those big rope 2）hammocks that hang between palm trees until I actually climbed into one）.

I should point out that these lawn chairs did not come with cushions， which didn’t make any sense at all because they need them. Mrs. G bought two really thick cushions and a couple of coordinating pillows from the 3）Barn of Pottery. I believe this ensemble cost more than the chairs， which we got online from the 4）Mart de Wal.

The first year we got the chairs， we rolled them out to a perfect spot under the shade of a majestic white pine， and dropped the cushions and pillows onto the naked 5）slats. Man， they looked good—like something one might see beside the infinity pool at George Clooney’s place.

I was ready and fully charged to do nothing. I got my book， I got myself an iced tea， and I was all prepared to do some five-star lounging.

The little drink tray was slid out from the bottom of the chair； the back angled into one of the four preset spots. This should have been amazing， but the instant I sat down the cushion and I went sliding halfway down the chair as if on rollers. I ended up flat on my back with my legs up in the air like a dead 6）June bug.

Well， this wasn’t comfortable. Not one bit. All that was missing from the scene was a pair of 7）stirrups， a bright light and a 8）gynecologist.

I went into the house， lifted the rug in the 9）foyer and chopped off a piece of the rubber that holds the rug in place. I placed the rubber between the cushion and the lawn chair， and—voila！—no more sliding.

As I sat there， I quickly realized that the angle I had chosen was not designed for anything with a spine， so I tried to adjust it. Full upright wasn’t good either， and the only other options were two degrees from perfectly flat or perfectly flat. I gave up reading and fell asleep. When I woke up about 15 minutes later， I wasn’t able to feel anything from my waist down.

My wife said I should stop complaining， so I challenged her to sit on the other chair for more than 10 minutes. She couldn’t do it. “It feels like I just had an 10）epidural anesthesia，” she said.

It was hard to believe that something that looked this good could be so uncomfortable.

“Try the pillow，” she suggested， so I did. First I stuck it behind my neck， which pushed my head so far forward my chin was resting on my belly button.

“How do I look？” I said， “Because， man oh man， I feel great！”

“That doesn’t look at all comfortable. Try it behind the small of your back，” she said.

I tried that and I could hear things crack that probably shouldn’t have been cracking.

“You sound like 11）castanets. I think you’re getting old，” she said.

No matter what I tried， I couldn’t get comfortable， so the chairs stayed undisturbed on the lawn as nothing more than good-looking props—except for when it rained or threatened to rain.

We’d be sound asleep and my wife would hear a little rain falling and suddenly bolt out of bed.

“Oh my God—the cushions！” she’d cry. She would then race outside in her pajamas to save them from the rain. Meanwhile， I’d stay in bed， indifferent to the 12）sodden load that would result if they got wet. Honestly， who makes cushions for outdoor furniture and doesn’t make them rainproof？ The cushions and pillows would clutter up the porch until all threat of rain went away.

This simply wasn’t going to work， so Mrs. G found covers that snapped over everything like big lawn-chair shower caps.

Now， the formerly attractive chaise lounges looked like small 13）pop-up camper vans parked side-by-side in the backyard.

“That’s attractive，” I said. “You should take pictures and send them to Pottery Barn. Maybe they can put them in their catalogue. You know， the one they send out to 14）KOA campgrounds.”

To make matters worse， the chairs had to be moved every time I cut the grass. I did this until I noticed that the grass underneath these plastic-covered EasyBake ovens had turned into two perfectly rectangular patches of death. At least that saved me from moving the chairs and mowing under them.

And that’s where we are again this year. The chairs are naked out in the yard， this time with the cushions in plastic bags in the garage. Nobody has even attempted to use them， and the only one annoyed by this is our dog， Milo. He keeps looking up at me and wondering when we are going to set up his outdoor dog bed.

“Later，” I tell him. “Right now it looks like rain. Now leave me alone. I’m trying to relax.”

幾年前，G太太和我認定夏日在家的最佳休閑之物應(yīng)該是兩張木質(zhì)草坪躺椅，法國人稱之為“貴妃長靠椅”。

我想在這里他們將木質(zhì)草坪躺椅稱為“貴妃長靠椅”，這個叫法我不太能接受。等下次我想要打個小盹時，也許我也會蜷在一張“貴妃椅”上的，又或者我要開始將雨衣稱作“油布雨衣”了。

每一年，我們都會將這些椅子從車庫里搬出來，推進后院，期待著多個忙里偷閑好好休息的時刻。

今年也不例外，不過到如今它們已經(jīng)被擱置在草坪上快一個月了，卻沒人上去坐過。一次都沒有。奇怪的是，它們看上去那么誘人；像是世界上最舒服的東西，說真的（不過我也這樣評論過那些掛在棕櫚樹之間的粗繩吊床，直到我親身爬上去一試才知其真滋味）。

我應(yīng)該指出的是，這對草坪躺椅在買的時候并沒有配靠墊，這完全說不過去，因為它們就是需要靠墊。G太太從“陶瓷谷倉”買了兩個非常厚實的靠墊，還有一對與之相配的枕頭。我相信這些全部加起來花的錢比那對椅子還貴，因為椅子是從沃爾瑪?shù)木W(wǎng)站上買的。

我們買到這兩張椅子的第一年，就把它們移到一棵巨大白松樹下的最佳方位，并把靠墊和枕頭扔在了光光的板條上。天，這一切看起來真棒——就像是你在喬治·克魯尼家那無邊際的游泳池旁邊會看到的東西一樣。

我已經(jīng)做好準備，打算啥都不干了。我拿出了我的書，給自己倒了杯冰茶，已經(jīng)完全準備好來點五星級的享受，懶洋洋地打發(fā)時間了。

飲料小托盤從躺椅下方給拉了出來；椅背調(diào)到預(yù)先設(shè)定的四個位置之一。這應(yīng)該棒極了，但等我一坐下，靠墊和我就像落在滑輪上一樣，從躺椅滑下半截。結(jié)果我就像只死了的六月鰓金龜一樣背朝地面，四腿朝天。

嗯，這可不舒服。一點都不舒服。這個場景里獨缺一對馬鐙，一道強光，還有一位婦科醫(yī)生。

我回到屋子里，提起門廳的地毯，切下了一塊將地毯固定在地板的橡膠皮。我把這塊橡膠皮安在靠墊和躺椅之間——搞定！——不會再滑了。

當我坐在那里時，很快便意識到我所選的那個角度不適合任何一種脊椎動物，于是我試圖做些調(diào)整。完全九十度也不好，于是僅剩的選擇便是差兩度完全平躺或是完全平躺。我放棄了閱讀，就這么睡著了。等過了大約十五分鐘我醒來的時候，我的腰部以下完全麻掉沒感覺了。

我妻子說我應(yīng)該停止抱怨，于是我激她去另一張?zhí)梢紊献铣^十分鐘。她也做不到。“我覺得自己像是剛做完硬膜外麻醉，”她說。

很難相信竟然有些東西看起來這么好卻讓人如此地不舒服。

“試試枕頭吧，”她建議說，于是我照做了。開始我把它枕在脖子后面，但它把我的腦袋抬得太高了，我的下巴都擱在肚臍上了。

“我看起來怎么樣？”我說，“感覺好像挺棒的！”

“這樣子看上去一點都不舒服。試試把它塞在你的腰背后面，”她說。

我這樣試了，可以聽到某些可能不應(yīng)該咔咔作響的東西在咔咔作響。

“你聽起來好像響板。我覺得你老了，”她說。

不管我怎么嘗試，都沒法舒服點，于是那對躺椅便不受打擾地待在草坪上，除了被當做漂亮的擺設(shè)以外別無它用——除非是下雨或是將要下雨的時候。

我們睡得正熟，而我妻子會聽見一點雨聲，然后突然從床上彈起來。

“我的天啊——那些靠墊！”她會大叫道。接著她會穿著睡衣狂奔出去，救靠墊于大雨之中。與此同時，我會待在床上，毫不關(guān)心它們在被淋濕后會變得濕巴巴且死沉死沉的。說實話，誰會傻到為室外家具設(shè)計靠墊，卻不做成防水的？那些靠墊和枕頭會被亂糟糟地堆在門廊上直到雨過天晴。

這樣下去也不是辦法，于是G太太找到了些罩子把所有的東西都蓋了起來，就像是寬大的草坪躺椅浴帽。

如今，之前那對吸引人的躺椅看起來就像是并排停泊在后院里的一對突兀的小露營拖車。

“這可真迷人，”我說道?！澳銘?yīng)該照張相，然后發(fā)到‘陶瓷谷倉’。沒準他們會將照片納入他們的目錄里呢。你知道，就是他們在KOA露營地派發(fā)的那種目錄?！?/p>

更糟糕的是，每次我修剪草坪時，這些躺椅就必須得挪位置。我這樣做了，直到有一天我發(fā)現(xiàn)這對蓋著塑料布的易烘烤爐下面的青草已經(jīng)長成了兩塊完美的長方形棺材狀。至少節(jié)省了我搬椅子和修剪它們的功夫。

而今年我們又一次舊事重演。那對躺椅被光禿禿的扔在院子里，這一次靠墊們都被塞進塑料袋放在了車庫里。甚至沒人愿意嘗試去使用它們，而唯一一個對此安排表示不悅的是我們的狗狗米羅。它不停地抬頭看我，想知道我們什么時候才打算為它搭建戶外狗床。

“晚點吧，”我告訴它說?！艾F(xiàn)在看起來像是要下雨了?，F(xiàn)在別來吵我。我打算好好休息下?！?/p>