Herself: We tried a new spot for breakfast yesterday, and it didn’t work for me. The owners were nice, the food was good…tho the pancakes were dry, and the sausages were the best I had ever had. It all triggered an IBS attack on the way home. Still revising the Cobb piece for the anthology and working on two poems to be read tomorrow.
I have to confess, I hated sewing when I was in Junior High. The teacher gave me a simple shell blouse with facings to sew, and all I could do was cry.
Yesterday I managed to keep my tunnel vision to foam and white duck, and we headed home with a filled back seat that didn’t include all their marvelous fabrics. Back at the house, G measured, marked the foam, and ignoring my feeble attempts with the serrated knife, took over cutting the foam to size. Poof, the sofa was comfortable again….and the façade of the foam was covered.
Eying the remaining bit of foam, I got to thinking that it looked just like the vastly deficient seat for the Morris chair. G trimmed again and forced the new foam over the old foam inside the seat cover to create a seat that was sittable instead of sagable. Oh, it bulges a bit. But the newly plumped seat now not only holds up humans, it holds up the back rest too. It didn’t do that very well at all before.
We both felt very triumphant. He felt even more triumphant after a bit of hammering downstairs. I don’t know what he did, but he came upstairs to proclaim two projects finished. Perhaps it’s best I don’t know what he repaired.