Since the chair has arrived, it's been difficult to get anything done around here. Sure, it's empty now, but it took a crowbar and a few degrading words to get Dirk out of it to cut a shelf under the stove top so I could finally stack and sort the cast iron in various phases of restoration. For four days anyone who's posterior has met the red leather finds it mighty difficult to motivate. Laundry waits. Dishes languish, not only in the sink, but around the house. Another dog is forming from the cast-off hair Crystal leaves on the carpet. In short, nothing is getting done. Except . . .
The Monk's Travel Satchel is finis!
And I added a liner. It's an accomplishment.
Perhaps the chair isn't all that evil.