We fell out of love with our Covid Chairs.
They were so sturdy and rustic and so in sync with our mood of making do that we snatched them up when we saw them put out for trash at the curb a few blocks from our house. That was about three months ago.
So much has changed.
A creature of some kind shredded the seat of one of the chairs. This could have been one of our dogs but we don’t think so – not their style – but we do have a dog that has emptied packages of q-tips and made a nest of them, the same dog has shredded newspapers and mail and then put an apple in the center, making a still life rivaling any in an art museum. So, anything is possible.
But then there was the lawn – what there is of it. We are not good at lawns or gardening which doesn’t keep us from approaching every spring and summer with amnesiac-type optimism. But when we moved the chairs to mow, the grass underneath had yellowed to a ghostly pallor.
Still, I considered painting the chairs and the precious little table that came with the set. I have a thing for painting old things but not here in the city, only up north where making do is a science, a way of life, a culture, a way to use up the paint bought ten years ago.
And then there was this: we never sat in them. I don’t know why.
So we put the chairs and the little table out at our curb several days ago, hoping someone would take them and we wouldn’t have to pay the City to come get them. After a few days, my husband threatened to take his beloved chainsaw to the chairs, make firewood, you see, the next chapter in making do. In another life, we could have been survivalists. Except for the politics.
Last night, someone took the sweet little table but left the chairs. We were glad but despaired of anyone ever taking the chairs.
Then this afternoon, just as we were coming down the driveway with our dogs, a guy pulled up in an old silver PT Cruiser. He waited, his engine running, likely self-conscious about curb shopping with witnesses, but then he got out of his car.
“You’re taking the chairs!” I said.
“Is that okay?” he answered.
“Yes! It’s wonderful.”
“I think I can fix the seat on this one.”
We walked by him with our dogs, turning back to revel in him stuffing the two chairs into the back of his car.
I love they will have a new life with someone full of hope for them.