I sat down in my TV chair, and I broke through the seat, and I fell right through.
I weighed myself, but I was within spec.
I tried stacking the chair with pillows, but it was ugly and uncomfortable, and I started thinking about a new chair. Mary thinks I should spring for a motorized leather chair we saw in a store (with built-in USB, power, and cup holders), but that’s just not my style.
To make matters worse, Mary says her grandmother upholstered the chair 60 years ago, and she won’t hear talk of throwing it out.
I wanted to know just what my butt had busted, so I took the chair downstairs and peeled back the layers until I found the problem. It was the jute straps. Brittle with age, torn asunder, and hanging by a thread. By the time I’d exposed them, the seat was completely apart, and to fix it, I’d have to take the back apart too. The fabric was filthy, and there was no putting it back together. If it was ever going to be a chair again, it was going to have to be re-upholstered from scratch.
Now, I’ve done a little upholstery. Sure, my couch sucked to sit on, but my chairs aren’t bad at all. I might as well give it a shot.
So I finished taking it apart, and I took careful notes about how it went together. The plan was: Use the old pieces for patterns, and re-build it exactly like it used to be.
It should be easy. It should take about a month.
So we bought some fabric, and I ordered some jute. And the jute never came.
First it was back ordered, then it was late, and when it finally got here, it was the wrong stuff.
I re-ordered, along with all the other supplies I knew I’d need, and the packages have been trickling in all week.
Waiting. Waiting. You’ll have to wait till next month to see how this one turns out.
I took good notes
There’s a new lunch joint in town.
Goldfinch is run by a couple of pedigreed chefs who’ve fled the city, and they make the best uppity baked goods around. I’m a fan.
They don’t even sell donuts or sticky buns, but if you walk in the door, and you walk past the bun case, the tart case, the bon bon case, and the croissant case, you’ll come to the Supreme Croissant case.
It’s a special display with its own spotlight on a row of artisan puff pastry that are supple and crunchy and flaky and filled and fresh, and drizzled, and then topped, torched, and sprinkled.
And big. They have got America figured out.
It’s food porn. And it’s for sale. And I bought the last one, and it was a buttery orgasm of sweet crispiness that physics says can’t be done. It took me three tries to eat the whole thing.
It was so good, I licked my fingers.
Tomorrow, I’m gonna start the GL1000. I’m gonna try, anyway.
The good news is that the bike is back together. The engine is closed up and back on the frame. It’s got clean carbs, new cables, and refreshed vacuum, fuel, coolant, and electrical systems.
On the other hand, it’s got no muffler whatsoever, no rear brake, and 2 flat tires. Details.
I know it turns over, and nothing seem to leak, but I’ve never given it gas.
I give it a 50-50 chance.
It took me 3 tries, but the two halves finally went together.