[This darn song gets stuck in my head far far too much. I blame John A., with whom I went to art school. He would sing the refrain and force us to walk in rhythm to it — put one foot (step step step) … in front of (step step step) … the ooo-ooother! (stepstepstep!)]

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Accomplishments feel few and far between these days, mostly I’m running trying to catch the train, or (worse) taking big, galumphing steps backwards.

The spambots have found a new algorhythm and I have to block and destroy dozens of comments a day, which makes blogging feel so chore-y.

Chore-y. Chairy!

Here’s one accomplishment. From this:

To this:

No DIY spirit here, had a guy do it, he did good, I gave him what was probably a reasonable amount but was a sort of ouchy amount. But that’s okay! Loooooook, loooooove.

Before the Great Revinyling, all but one of the chair’s seats were ripped past the point of usability. In the way that humans do, my Elderly Relative, regular visitors and myself adapted to this fact, just shuffling around the small handful of good chairs, sitting in shifts, and generally doing a very elaborate and silly dance.

It wasn’t until John had a whole battery of home health care visits that I saw what we were living with — the physical therapist and social worker both sat in seatless chairs before I could stop them — and the sight of startled professionals halfway pulled into their chair (sitting-on-the-toilet-rim-style) was concerning and NOT HILARIOUS AT ALL. Especially when the PT’s sheaf of papers went flying in the air.

So many sittable chairies now! Now I’m fantasizing about having a real dining room, which I have never done before. Perhaps I’d have a dinner party and rig one or two of the chairs’ seats to give way at some point during the meal.

Not hilarious. At all.