Da da da

"So, I found this chair in the alley..." I was in Target, perusing the cleaning supplies, and had just called my mom for advice.

With a cross between a laugh and a groan, she asked, "Oh really?" And then, "It's not upholstered, is it?"

"Well..." I started, and she groaned in earnest.

"But it's very nice!" I said. "It's red with gold diamonds and it's really a nice chair! It's... missing its back cushion... and the armcovers... but I think it will look really nice in my house."

And it does. Right now it's drying out from its shampooing on the porch (the cleaner was in the automotive department! My mom's a genius!). I might have to do a bit of touch-up on that, however, as I was forced to man(single)handle it up the stairs and through the door, a process that involved me shoving, dragging, and sternly addressing (always a bonding experience with my favorite inanimate objects) the chair and left me dripping with sweat.

The first chair I rescued from an alley was in Lincoln, at the prompting of Ter, just before they moved out. She saw it one evening walking the dog in the neighborhood, and mentioned it to me, but I was reluctant to undertake the hassle of fetching it. The next morning, even though it was raining, and had been all night, she said, "Cer, I really think you need that chair." So we took the Popcan to the alley, where we found the chair--a beautiful mission style rocker, missing one back support slat, and a bit damp--and loaded it up. We also ran into the previous owner, who was happy to see us take it. At home, Ter helped me dry it off, clean it up, and turn it into one of my very few real pieces of furniture. I moved it out to Bowling Green, where I re-covered it; I couldn't move it here, but was able to leave it in a good home there.

This time around, I had a station wagon, but even so--after an odd conversation with the African family in the apartments next door, who seemed amused to see me loading alley trash into my trunk in my teacher clothes--I only made it a few feet before it fell right out the back, landing on its feet with a gentle plunk. I circled around, sheepishly reloaded it a bit more firmly, and then crept home with my prize.

And now I have a new chair. As I told my mom on the phone, at least it's only furniture I bring home off the streets. It could be worse.