The Bloggess recently posted this conversation she had with her husband about wanting a wheelbarrow, not for yard work but for relaxation purposes. If you haven’t read it yet, head over there and check it out. Just come back here, okay? I’ll wait for you.
So here’s the thing: When I was a kid, my family totally had a wheelbarrow in our living room for a brief time. I don’t remember exactly how that came to be, but there it was: a brand-spanking new, school bus yellow wheelbarrow in the center of the room. It made a great place to watch TV, sort of like a recliner with a wheel and handles, a Barcabarrow, if you will. Someone even tossed a couple of throw pillows in there at some point—blue ones with bonnet-clad white geese on them (so very 1980s). The wheelbarrow created a great focal point for that room, what with its wood paneled walls, aforementioned geese décor, and view of the ginormous satellite TV dish through the sliding patio doors. Kind of like if Better Homes and Gardens did a special “Mobile Home Chic” issue. But then just as quickly as it arrived, the wheelbarrow was gone, taken away (by my dad, I assume) to answer its higher calling in the garden.
Many years later, my brother and I, now adults, were in a video rental store. For some reason he thought of the wheelbarrow-as-chaise-lounge, and said, “Hey! Remember when we used to fight over who was going to sit in the wheelbarrow and watch TV?” People all around froze with their DVD boxes suspended in mid-air and looked to see what kind of people would be having this conversation. I like to think that they all went home, popped their DVDs in, and said to their significant other as they reached for the popcorn, “You won’t believe what I heard someone at the video store say today.”
Wheelbarrow or La-Z-Boy? You decide.