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該是兩張木質草坪躺椅，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的網站上買的。

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，已經完全準備好來點五星級的享受，懶洋洋地打發時間了。……