I think the recent cold snap we’ve been suffering through has left me tired and out of sorts. Last night I had a major case of the blahs. So I went shopping, but when your destination is the local second-hand shop you can’t really call it shopping. It’s more of a treasure hunt. What can one find while wading hip-deep in castoffs and other random things that are one step away from the curb? Hmmm. I needed a challenge.
I found a vintage glass orange juice container, circa 1970s, a style of which that I remember that everyone had in their house when I was little. I knew I was falling victim to nostalgia, but I held on to it for awhile, then thought better of it and returned it to the shelf.
Then I saw it. A chair. It was a really funky old chair, borne in the same days as the juice container, and in dire need of new upholstery. I inquired about the price. Nineteen ninety nine. That’s twenty bucks! For a cool chair! I sat on it for awhile. It seemed like it was in good enough shape. It had good bones. I tried to envision what Mark would say. I knew he wouldn’t like it. But come hell or high water I HAD TO HAVE THIS CHAIR. It had personality. It had grace. It is swank, like the kind of chair you’d find in someone’s bachelor pad.
So I bought it, and wrassled it into the car. It was soon after homecoming that Mark discovered what I bought.
“What do you have there?” he called from the living room couch. “Whatever it is sounds big.”
(I couldn’t actually hide it, could I? Although I have to admit that I considered doing just that.)
Mark didn’t think much of my chair. The girls jumped on it right away. They like it because it’s a good size for them and there are no arms to get in the way. I’ve already emailed a photo to a local upholsterer in hopes of getting a reasonable estimate.
Your honesty is welcome. I don’t mind if you hate it, but consider the potential here! I’m thinking of going with a velvety cranberry coloured pattern. (!)
