Much Ado about NOTHING

Just looking around our large living/dining room, where I'm sitting now, it occurs to me that we have a odd collection of chairs. The large rocking chair fits awkwardly between the couch and the French doors, making it difficult to rock. (There's no better place for it though.) Then there's the antique chair with the webbing bottom that doesn't have any webbing anymore. Instead, we have a milk crate hidden under the seat cushion -- so when you sit on this rather elegant-looking chair, you're actually sitting on a milk crate, haha. (We'll get around to fixing the chair bottom one of these years.) A nice assortment of mismatched dining-room chairs is distributed throughout the room, each looking polished and expensive, despite their provenance -- we found most of them on the street. (People throw away the most amazing things.) By far the weirdest seat, though, is the 1920s-era wooden wheelchair that my wyfe purchased at a hospital auction. It has...uh, character. Hope I never have occasion to use it for its intended purpose.

If all of these chairs were people, we'd have quite a fun group here, an eclectic bunch sitting around yacking about notable haunches perhaps.