Five Red Chairs

I bought them in April because of the upcoming tariffs. There were only five left in red. They had to be red. They were delivered to my neighbor’s house since I’m not always here. They came unassembled.

I tried to put one together. I had the diagram, the parts, and the time. I did okay until the tiny metal cylinder had to go into the secret hole and I inserted it incorrectly so that the slot for the screw was facing the wrong way. I couldn’t get the cylinder out of the hole. The whole chair was ready to fall apart. I got mad. I didn’t finish the chair. I got frustrated and gave up.

The chair sat in my beach house living room for four months, May, June, July and August. My neighbor, Ed, put the other four chairs together in two days. He brought them over one by one and set them on my porch. But the fifth chair needed parts. That pesky cylinder piece had gotten lost in the grass.

I called Wayfair. They sent a new set of parts, delivered to the same neighbor across the street.

She called to tell me they had arrived. Wayfair had sent me an email, so I knew. It would be another week before I could get down there. I got the parts from her and she fed me a sweet tamale, homemade. I took the parts to Ed and the next day he delivered the final chair.

The five chairs really pop on the porch. Ed says they’re pine and they won’t hold up in the dampness. I need to get some silicone spray to help them repel the fog. But not this trip.

I’ve already shopped, shopped, shopped at all the end of the month half-off sales at thrift stores, washed my car at the super-duper do-it-yourself for $4 car wash (actually sixteen quarters), pulled weeds, watered a zillion pots, glued back together four pots that the dogs or raccoons broke, walked one dog twice and played ball with the other one, framed a couple of pictures, rolled up two rugs full of carpet beetles and arranged their pick-up by the garbage company, and answered a bunch of Facebook Marketplace messages, blah, blah blah.

It’s been a great three days of glorious sunshine and blue ocean, a few deer, and happy people. Time to go home to my other life in my other town where there is a dying dog (daughter’s), friends with health problems, a hair appointment and a chorus rehearsal to get ready for, plus a zillion people who want dishes and Christmas aprons and tea pots. It’s a good thing that I found five tea pots on this trip and an ungodly number of plates and tea cups. The clueless thrift store guy tried to put a one hundred year old hand-painted plate inside a metal bowl and I had to jump in and say, “Please don’t do that.” He clearly cares zero for antique dishes, because once before he tried to tape five antique saucers together with Scotch tape, at which time I said, “Please don’t do that.”

Yes, I am that picky old woman in the straw hat standing over the volunteers as they put plates on top of tea cups and pile dishes in boxes with no paper around them until I ask for them to wrap each piece.

Because resale . . .

Anyway, the chairs are done! Hurray!