It just wasn’t going to happen. Shamane and I turned the newly built chair every-which-way, but there was no getting it up the stairs and through the narrow door from the basement. “I hate to tell you this hun,” she said. “But I think you need to take the arms off.” My wife is every bit as smart as she is beautiful. Twelve years of marriage has taught me not to argue. Repeatedly muttering a single syllable expletive, I backed us down the steps and skulked over to...
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