Diary of a mad homeowner

The trials and tribulations of fixing up a house filled with character but not much else



This chair scared the hell out of me the first time I walked down in the Slightly Unenchanted Forest. I thought it was a gravestone with its creepy curves and weathered wood. That somehow someone was buried on my lot, their remains curled around the roots of the lodepole pines. Creeped me out.

I left it there.

For 10 years.

This last summer I got into tidying mode around the property. More trees came down and piles of wood from long lost projects were taken away by an enthusiastic group of people wanting to build an adult treehouse. They took all the wood stacked on the back of the property that sat there so long it warped into curvy shapes. They took the left-over flooring from my mud room, sheets of plywood and old fence slats. Got me in the mood to clear out the crap down in the trees. I’d already gotten rid of the hockey pucks and crack pipe but I still find lots of golf balls tennis balls. There’s a few Kongs down there, too.

I decided to get rid of the gravechair and toss it in the trash along with short pieces of nailed 2 x 4’s. It gave me the willies to bring it up, put it down long enough to take a pic then toss it in the trash.

I don’t know the story behind the 60-year old legless chair. It’s random that it’s sat down there long enough for the upholstery to vanish with the seasons and the wood to peel and rot. The hardware still was in good shape, though.

Now it’s in good shape in the landfill.

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