Emily used to be my next-door neighbor. When she got married and started a family, the house was too small, so she lives across town now, and we can't run in and out of each other's houses like we used to. No more phone alerts when she's locked her husband out of the house in his underwear.
Before they moved, Emily offered to sell me this chair. Very cheaply, I might add. I snatched that sucker right up. This is the best chair in the world. It's huge. My keys, if you can find them, are on the arm on the left of the photo. You can curl up and sleep in it. You can semi-recline, sitting sideways with your legs over the other arm. It gives me great comfort.
The dogs like it too, and what with one thing and another, it came to pass that the Emily Chair needed a makeover. I went to the upholstery fabric store, feeling a bit out of place in my scrubs among the well-dressed, expensively-coiffed, carefully madeup ladies whom, ( I suspect in my reverse snobbery ) to be redecorating their living rooms because they are bored with last season's color schemes. I wanted something sturdy that wouldn't show dirt. There were a lot of interesting choices - at least five different patterns included monkeys - but everything was either too sober or too delicate, until I saw the fabric that was born for the Emily chair. I laughed out loud. The salesman stifled his alarm. I can't show a photo because I've lost the swatch, and the upholstery guy they recommended is still working on the chair. He said it might take four weeks; it's been four weeks, three days and several hours. I really really want my Emily Chair back.
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