Me! That’s who gets excited. The two chairs I had reupholstered came back today and I am so excited about them.
Praise for Jordan. The arrival of the furniture meant much rearranging, and she did it all. We still haven’t got it right. It’s hard to fit upholstered furniture into a small spot, but I have reluctantly agreed to get rid of Sophie’s chair. It’s not in good shape—upholstery torn, chewed when she was a puppy; slipcover slightly stained from the day she got into the mud, we brought her in and left without checking her feet or watching her movements. Yep, it’s time for Sophie’s chair to go. But it is the most comfortable chair I’ve ever owned, and over the years I watched several romances blossom in that chair. I’ve offered it free on our neighborhood email newsletter but so far no takers. If you’re in the area and are interested, let me know.
We moved that chair out here as a way of getting Sophie acclimated to the cottage. She sleeps in it all day.
We did move the lawyer’s bookcase to the place Colin wanted to put it earlier, and he now has the right to say I told you so. Jordan says she had it there in the first place and was over-ruled by her siblings.
The wing chair was my mother’s favorite reading chair. She’d sit in it of an evening reading—I remember particularly the works of husband-and-wife historians Will and Ariel Durant—and Dad would sit across the fireplace in his chair. They were so funny, because they kept interrupting each other with, “Listen to this.” It’s a wonder they ever got anything read through. Mom upholstered the chair in turquoise, her favorite color, and I have reupholstered it at least once, maybe more. Now it’s done in a whimsical pattern.
|Wing chair "before"|
After I moved to the cottage, Sophie developed a fascination with Mom’s wing chair. She’d sit in it, particularly if there was company. And, unfortunately, she drooled on the arm. Now it’s in light colors, which worries me, though the mud episode has only happened once in six years, and I had antimacassars made for the arms. Holding my breath, because we will eventually put it in the corner where “her chair” now is.
The barrel chair is one of a pair—the other one is in the main house, though they tell me whenever they get new furniture they’ll get rid of it. I had real doubts about having matching chairs upholstered in differing fabric. But the gods work in mysterious ways, as Mom always told me. When the upholsterer delivered the chairs today, he said, “You ordered way too much of that fabric, enough to do that second chair.” So that’s what I’ll do.
Both Jacob and Jordan sat in the new chairs with a surprised look on their faces. The upholstery is new, thicker, firmer—a whole different chair. And I’m delighted with the fabrics—they give the cottage living area a much brighter, lighter look. For now I’m calling it a summer look.