I could write a really great Dr. Seuss book about my many chairs. It would start off with, "Cool chairs. Old chairs. New chairs. Hard chairs. Soft chairs. High chairs. Low chairs. Designer chairs. Ten chairs, twenty chairs, thirty chairs, lots of chairs. Three cheers for sixty chairs. It's all about my many chairs. These chairs need cheers, so please Matt, don't chuck the chairs."
Look what question was featured on the popular design blog, Apartment Therapy, HERE a few weeks ago. Too bad I was typing from my iPhone and I couldn't see well enough to notice that I had spelled my last name wrong in my question that linked all A.T.'s readers to my blog!
Matt and I laughed so hard at some of the comments that we were gasping for breath and our bellies ached, especially the commentator that recommended I throw Matt in the dumpster and keep the cool chairs. I just have this serious addiction to chairs, not just any chair, they must date at least 1975 or older. But if they happen to be mid-century modern, I'm ecstatic. I have no desire to quit collecting them cold turkey, and I won't admit myself into rehab for the multiple chair hoarders addiction either. Whether I find the chairs in sets or as single stray cats, I can't let any of them go. It's as though I've fed them once on the porch, and now I'm emotionally obligated to them. So I took the time to count my chairs at the house today, just to see how ill I really am. I have over 60. I won't give you an exact amount, because then I would be admitting more than I want to. All I can shout is, "A hundred cheers to my chairs!
|Young Women Values Throne|
|One of Grandma Barbara's green velvet chairs|
|I have 13 of these, original Thonet's that came from a dorm in Kansas|
|A little D.I. find that I reupholstered.|
|I love this little cutie. Also a D.I. find for $15.|
|I helped some friends move and these were sadly in the D.I. pile. Couldn't let that happen...|