When I moved up to Atlanta from Warner Robins in 1988, I needed another chair for "the Cubbyhole," as I called my studio apartment. Our friend Ann was getting rid of a big papasan chair (James has always jokingly called it "the satellite dish," it was so big) so I took that.

It's been with us through thick and thin. At the apartment Leia used to sleep on it (we flipped it over for company). When we moved to the old house we bought a new cushion for it, and when James was working horrendous hours at Wang, sometimes I used to sleep in it, next to Bandit's cage. In the new house it went down into the library, and has cuddled innumerable kids escaping the partying adults upstairs at Twelfth Night and on game nights.

But the passage of years has taken its toll: the wood is scratched and won't take much of a polish anymore. At 34 and even 44 we were still comfortable in it; in our 50s it is getting difficult to get in and out of and doesn't support our backs any longer. Plus it's really too big for the space in front of the window. So we have made the tough decision to get rid of the old chair. Tomorrow we'll dust it off and take it to Goodwill. Someone may be able to put some spit and polish into the old girl and use her in a den or comfy room where they don't care much about the scratches.

We've replaced it with this. I'd have loved a library-like wing-back armchair, but the budget couldn't swing it.

As for the rest of the day, well, it included assemblies and lights, but that's all told in Holiday Harbour.

Labels: furniture

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. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 7:24:00 PM

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