I contemplated writing a nice long post about this chair and the way I found it as part of my therapy. But I decided to forgo the therapeutic story and just simply state the facts.
Last Monday I worked hard all morning.
I made banana bread out of two lonely ripe bananas instead of lazily throwing them out.
I re-seasoned my cast iron.
I looked out my freshly Windex-ed front window at about 2 pm and saw two girls out junking, just like I used to do during the last week of April pre kids.
The temptation was too great.
I loaded the kids into the van with books (for mobile-naptime).
I found this amazing chair. I parked.
It had great lines.
I could see past the duct tape and yucky varnish.
I loved it.
I loaded it.
I got back in the van.
I looked over my shoulder and s l o w l y eased out of my parallel parking spot. . . into grinding metal.
Yep, I hit a car.
Of course it was all in extremely slow motion, so the damage was very minor and the elderly-swearing-like-a-sailor lady only got her front parking light knocked out; after a friendly chat with insurance agents, it will be repaired and good as new.
My van door, on the other hand, is a sadder story. It doesn't look so hot. I thought about taking a picture and posting it here, but the frustration is still far too fresh.
So my free chair:
After I calmed down and the urge to kick things had passed, I painted the chair (black, of course) and re-covered the seat using an old linen dress that already had cool seams. I incorporated those lines into the seat and it looks pretty cool.