The Chairs

For months and months I had been hounding poor Antonio about the chairs that his cousin had stashed in Antonio's already full apartment.
I coveted the chairs, well at least two of them and I saw them fit perfectly at the ends of my new dining room table, the host and hostess chairs if you will.
The cousin apparently got them when the hotel he works for remodeled and which must have chosen a different kind of chairs for the new decor, but to me they were perfect with rush seats and arm rests, nice and solid and painted black.
Alas, nothing happened until yesterday when all the stars must have aligned and Antonio called me to inform me that not only had he ( finally ) talked with his cousin, but the cousin was agreeable to let me have two chairs and, what's more, for free.
So off I went this morning to Antonio's apartment which is located on a narrow, steep one-way street with a minimum of parking, but again the stars aligned and I parked right in front and schlepped the chairs to the car and thanked A. profusely and rushed home to arrange my new treasures.
And this is where the alignment of the stars stopped; the chairs don't fit under the table. The arms are too high.
So all my dreams and scheming and hounding of poor Antonio came to naught. Sure I have the chairs, and sure they are wonderful, but they don't fit under the table.
They are now neatly arranged on either side of sideboard and can, if the occasion arises, be used as host and hostess chairs, but their spot is not, as I had envisioned, at the table but guarding ceramic pots and porcelain chicken.