Nothing else could account for the mini-dither I embarked upon when I saw it in a local consignment store a little over a week ago.
A second hand chair for the cottage exerts a powerful pull
I wasn’t even looking for a chair at that moment, though somewhere in my subconscious I had come to the conclusion that there was a chair sized space at the cottage that would need filling.
Couldn’t stop thinking about the chair. Then I started negotiating for the chair – which was one of a pair – and the vendor was willing to split them up, offer me a better price, hold it for a few days and take it back if it didn’t suit. Happy Times, right?
Only, all this goodness planted a seed of suspicion and paranoia instead: Maybe the chair was very ugly and I couldn’t see it! Maybe she knew no-one else would ever buy it!
Actually, she was just being really obliging and helpful. This would, I suppose, be a good place to reward her decency and mitigate my paranoia – which however she may not have known about until this moment – with a link to her lovely store: Around My House Consignment in Port Moody, BC.
My obsession continued and I posted a picture of the chair on Facebook and asked my HGTV- addicted friends to offer an opinion. Few cared.
And now the chair is in situ at the cottage and I really do like it. I still cannot explain my affinity except to say that it seems as though my brain has connected it to some otherwise lost memory. I have a karmic connection to a second-hand chair.
Also, it fills the small space quite nicely; offers an elegant-ish counterpoint to the Vilas maple chair beside it; and best of all, the next time we have friends over for an evening, or the Crumpet Club reconvenes, I may not find myself sitting on a folding chair.
And luckily, also fills an awkward space.
