Tuesday, September 14, 2010

'Oh hey, Mom'

My mom called me yesterday evening, and we had the following conversation:
"Hey Mom"
"Hey Lauren, I jut wanted to call and make sure you're doing okay" (look up 'worrier' in the dictionary, there's a picture of my mother there)
"I'm fine"
"So what are you up to?"
"Just reupholstering some chairs"
We talked about other stuff too, none of which is relevant to what I'm writing about today, and is a tad too personal to display on the interwebs.
I feel like I should start blogging about the random stuff my neighbors leave by the dumpsters. Fisher Price play-kitchens, books, mattresses, a blender, folding chairs that are missing the seat part, shoes...you name it, my neighbors are trying to get rid of it. But nothing actually goes IN the dumpster. Just BY it. I feel like this is a passive way of getting rid of things (granted, the kitchen and the mattress wouldn't exactly fit). I have no way of knowing whether these events were perpetrated by a repeat offender, or if each of my neighbors are throwing things out in turn (if it's the latter, am I expected to leave a random piece of junk by the dumpster too?)
What boggles me is that a lot of these things, while not in prime condition, could be cleaned up a bit and donated to Goodwill. For instance there is a couch and a love seat out there now that, with a little TLC, could make a poor college student's living room very happy.
I found a couple of chairs out there the other day. They were ugly and dirty, but weren't missing any pieces or anything. So yeah, I grabbed 'em. They weren't IN the dumpster, so I wasn't digging through garbage.
I took them home, scrubbed the heck out of them, removed the seats, applied a couple coats of Kraylon high gloss black spray paint. I bought some leopard print outdoor canvas at the fabric store and a couple of foam pads, and I've watched enough HDTV to figure out the re-covering process...and I think my chairs are pretty classy.

I guess it's true what they say...one person's trash is another person's treasure. (Or at least another person's patio furniture)

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