I REMEMBER when a 100 year old antique seemed nearly impossible to attain among our own things. Now here we are, living in a plethora of items from long, long ago. The kitchen chairs from my mother's house came along with us to the Manor. They were attractive, once sturdy, and I just didn't want to part with them until I realized that the supports were loosening and someone would eventually end up on the floor if we weren't very careful. Not a pretty picture to contemplate.
So the nagging began. Mr. Bob got tired of hearing, "Either repair those chairs once and for all or we need to get rid of them." Or maybe he didn't register my warnings at all, it's hard to tell. I talked Tim into taking 2 of them, 2 are still in the bedroom, at Bob's 2 desk positions (he gets 2 desks while I'm working everything in my lap and trying, fruitlessly, to maintain some semblance of order, but that's another story.)
One evening during Susan's visit, I sent her along with Tim out to Pier 1 to look for some director's chairs. We had brought 2 with us when we moved here and during the first fund-raising boutique, I pointed a chair out to Mr. Bob as being like ours and his response was that it didn't just look like ours, but that it WAS ours and at that very moment a customer was claiming it. In my book, decisions such as that require a conference.
At any rate when the kids returned home from their shopping trip they were excited that the chairs they had found were "so MOM!", just shrieking to be purchased. They were right.......witness:
Now to get rid of the other 2 kitchen chairs. My grandmother had a saying, "He can sit on his thumb and let his feet hang over". That should either speed up Mr. Bob's bill paying or slow it down. One or t'other.