Furniture Karma Strikes Again

Last night as I was leaving the office around seven (I had a hard time setting my alarm the night before), I noticed some interesting garbage in our mail room. It was as if there were a heavenly light glowing over said item--an office chair--something I've been looking for but not willing to pay for since I moved to this apartment (September 2004). Office chairs are overpriced and anyone who knows me knows that I can't stand buying cheap stuff that is expensive, and that's often what they are. Anyway, so I decide to take the stained, torn up, heavy piece of junk home despite what my lawyer neighbors might thing of this hideous thing I'm rolling around. The only problem (only!) is that the ground is wet, icy, salted, sanded, a typical Boston February evening--whatever you want to call it, so I had to carry it outside. To do this, I turned it over and put the seat on my head and carried the back of it in front--and then made every effort not to make eye contact with people. In the train I sat in it (and held on for dear life for each stop--remember the wheels). Then I carried it on home and did something about its appearance. A little Mauritanian fabric, black duct tape, and old opaque tights did the trick.