Supply Chain Woes

From the garage door to the bedroom, my life is a litany of supply chain woes. So many items, so many delays. I’m starting to fear I won’t live long enough to enjoy the fruits of my spending spree of new home purchases!

Supply Chain Woes: Number Uno

Garage Door, Waiting Time: Five Months

As The New York Times wrote in a page-one business story, that’s how long it used to take to build a house! Now, that’s how long it takes to get a garage door. Till then, we park our car in the driveway. It’s not a fatal problem, but warm-weather-loving-shivering-and-sniffling me sure hates shoveling snow and ice off the car windows each morning before being able to drive off to wherever I need to go!

And as an aside, why do we need a new garage door, you might query. It’s a ridiculous story, but all the single-door garages in our neighborhood are too small for today’s extra-large cars to fit into!

Supply Chain Woes: Number Dos

New Couch: Ordered in July: Still Waiting

Do you know the fancy-pants French furniture store Roche Bobois? If not, lucky you! I’ve always drooled over their avant-garde cool couches, chic chairs, and divine divans. Well, with the move to the new house in Reno, Handsome Hubby and I decided to “just take a look” around the store. Mistake No. 1. We fell in love with a couch. It was expensive but on sale. We decided to splurge. Mistake No. 2. A HUGE mistake. We’ve been wallowing in the supply chain blues ever since.

The last time we talked/shouted to our oh, so elegant sales lady in San Francisco she told us the couch was in a shipping container in the Panama Canal en route to Long Beach, CA.

“And when will said couch and said shipping container sail into the San Francisco Bay?” we asked.

“No idea,” she said in her ever so charming French accent.

And what about the two chairs (Mistakes 3 & 4) we also ordered in July?

“What two chairs?” she asked cluelessly.

I thought HH would have a heart attack. So, I took the phone and reviewed the entire purchase with her, including the fact that the order had taken so long that the original fabric we had picked for the chairs was no longer available.

“Oh, those chairs,” she said airily.

Now, HH had to take the phone back from me. “W-H-E-N W-I-L-L T-H-E C-H-A-I-R-S A-R-R-I-V-E?” HH enunciated.

“Sir, there is no need to get haughty with me,” the sales lady said in a haughty tone, before adding the punchline. “I have no idea when the chairs will ship from France.”

We got off the phone and poured ourselves two tall glasses of California wine and cursed our pretentious impulsive buying impulses.

Dining Room Table Tabled

This week we thought we had finally broken a link in our supply chain woes. After a mere two-month wait, our dining room table was scheduled to arrive.

The magic day arrived! I was so worried I would miss the driver, I didn’t even step into the bathroom. Finally, at 4:37 pm, I received a text:

“Sorry, I won’t be making the delivery.”

Faster than I could text: “Why the f@#% not?” the delivery driver sent a picture. The glass tabletop was completely shattered.

Sleep No More, My Melancholy Baby

And as I wrote last week in this blog, I’ve been waiting four weeks for a breathing machine to hopefully ease my sleep apnea problem. Check out that story. It’s — as HH would say — a real snore!

Remember as kids our tried-and-true excuse “the dog ate my homework?” Now, the excuse for everything adult is “supply chain problems.”

And as you all know, it’s not just the big stuff we’re all having trouble getting, it’s the little stuff too. I went to the supermarket and Target too, hunting for Brillo pads to no avail. Finally, I ordered them on Amazon. They’re coming in three weeks! No two-day delivery. Oh, my greasy broiler pans and aching fingers!

Supply Chain S’more!

We’re also waiting for an inexpensive floor lamp, HH’s long-dreamed about pool table, and a glass surround to replace the banisters for my alcove office. I think that’s the full inventory.

And about that glass surround: basically, it’s a couple of big thick windowpanes in a metal casing, used instead of banisters.

Not having this isn’t just a “style” issue. It’s a safety concern. Without the banisters, I’m just a slip-and-a-fall away from landing facefirst in the living room below.

We’ve been waiting for the glass for five months. First, it was on backorder. Then, it was on the train, due “any day.” Its arrival was imminent, so, workmen ripped out the banisters. That “any day” was three weeks ago. Then, the train became a truck and the truck was in an accident and the glass shattered. Now, a train is again conveying the glass “any day.”

All I can say is — if you hear of my tragic demise, you’ll know I fell or threw myself off that unprotected raised alcove, waiting for that surround.

Lawsuit filed by distraught HH to follow! “Blame it on the supply chain,” the company man will say in court.

Hopefully, by then, HH’s pool table will have arrived to comfort him in his newfound bachelorhood! Who knows? Who knows indeed.