Yes, I know. It’s an ugly chair. I, however, happen to like it. It belonged to my great-grandfather and is in serious need of re-upholstering, but because of its construction that’s not inexpensive. For one thing, the pegs that hold the armrest in place are broken and the glue holding them in place is congealed and hardened. Never fear, I have the missing piece in a safe space.
What you can’t see is that when I inherited the chair, my cat at the time took a serious dislike to it – I can’t see why; what’s not to love about brown and yellow plaid? – and scratched the back left side to bits. I finally got him to stop but the damage was done.
When we moved, my husband and partner both said, get rid of the Ugli Chair. But I can’t. I love it. It wants to be loved, it wants to make people happy. It wants a place in the home. And it’s damnably comfortable. And let’s face it – when you’re sitting IN the Ugli Chair, you can’t SEE the Ugli Chair anymore. Problem solved, right?
And in the meantime, until it can be refinished into a less… baby shit brown and pancake sort of color scheme, we’re plotting to design a soft, brown, washable afghan that can be draped artfully over it so it at least looks intentional in the library and not like a “Dear God, what is that?”