Why bloggers should never drive a SmartCar or Mini Cooper

Are you ready for disappointment?

Ryan’s not writing the follow-up post to yesterday’s “What the Hell:  The Homeless Abode Edition.”

I’m sorry. I begged, but apparently a true artist will only work when inspired.  So you’re stuck with my less humorous views of yesterday.

If you want to fire me from your Google reader, I’ll understand.

If I’m not fired, then read on.  But be sure to read yesterday’s WTH first.   I’ll wait.

Ready?  Ok.

Yesterday was a total trash-picking score.  It started out with just one delight, one that was spotted roadside on my evening commute.  An old upholstered chair lay sadly in a pile of rubbish on the curb.  I could just hear her crying out to me “help me, help me!”  Seconds later the station wagon was whipped around, and parked by the rubbish pile’s house.

Tentatively, feeling awfully conspicuous in my black suit and high heels, I peeked at the chair and then lugged her back to my car.  It took an extra special shove to get her to fit . . . she was thisclose to not going in.   But at the Borrowed Abode, we don’t discriminate based on size, and so she came home with me.  Where there’s a will, there’s a way.  And then, as I drove triumphantly home, I realized one rule of home DIY blogging:

Thou shalt not drive a Mini Cooper or a Smart Car.

I mean, where would you put all the junk you want to lug home off the curb?

So by now you’re thinking “Good God, Jane, what the heck are you doing bringing that nasty old chair home with you?”

Well, she may be fugly at first glance, but I can see the potential. I’ve been just dying to find a chair so that I can try my hand at reupholstering it myself.  Granted, I’d hoped to tackle a more simple wooden chair with cushions first, but whatevs.  I’ll give this a go.

I was thinking I might just give her a good steam cleaning and then bring her indoors as-is for the time being, but when I removed the slipcover I found that the original gold upholstery was torn and the foam cushion was crumbling. That means I’ve gotta strip her down before bringing her inside.  Oh well.

But before I rip that old fabric off, I’ll take tons of photos from every angle – so that when I go to reupholster her I can figure out how to do it.  And since we’re calling her a “she,” we’ll call her Bertha after my grandma, who had a chair very similar to this one, which my kittens destroyed in college.

And thus begins the story of Bertha, the big fugly chair with potential.   Bertha, welcome to my back porch.

But this story doesn’t stop with Bertha.  If it did, then Ryan probably wouldn’t have chimed in last night.

So why was I spotted trotting down the street, suitcase in hand, yesterday evening? Well, it turns out you don’t need to have a car to go trash picking!

On the way home from an evening walk, Ryan and I passed a nice house with a huge rubbish pile.  (Ooh, I just LOVE spring cleaning time!)  I spied two vintage American Tourister suitcases peeking out from below a decaying mattress.  I immediately investigated, as Ryan stopped dead in the street to see what on earth I was up to.

A woman came out of the house, and said “Help Yourself!”  I was only about 5% embarrassed to be seen rummaging.  She was lovely, we had a nice chat about upcycling, and I explained to her that she’d most likely be seeing her suitcases reincarnated in my booth at the Viva Vienna festival on Memorial Day Weekend. That’s right, I’ve got some plans up my sleeve, but that’s a topic for another post.

I grabbed the suitcases, and away we went.  There was an extra bounce in my step from the sheer joy at the three-piece trash picking extravaganza that the day had become.  At this point Ryan took the larger of the two from me and carried it.  Noticing that he looked less than thrilled to be strolling through the ‘hood with a ratty old suitcase in hand, I offered to carry them both.  This is where the What the Hell was born.

Ryan pointed out that he was stuck.  If he chose to let me carry the suitcases, since I was the stubborn one who grabbed them rather than coming back later with the car, then he’d look like an ass to anyone who passed.  Especially if they thought the suitcases were actually packed and heavy.  Thus, carrying it was the lesser of two evils.  (Note to self:  employ this catch-22 situation again in the future when boyfriend compliance is needed!)

And so, last evening, Ryan and I strolled down the street, each with a suitcase in hand.  It surely looked odd to anyone glancing out their window, as the closest metro stop was over 1 mile away.  Ryan quipped that he was half expecting someone to stop and offer us a ride.  It’s that kind of town.

But no ride was offered, and we returned home- at which point Ryan retreated to his office to compose a blog entry.  Unfortunately for us, it was only 4 lines long this time.

I guess next time I’ll have to find a stray dog, some rusty scraps of metal, and a night stand or something for him to carry home from a walk.

So, tell me.  What’s the craziest or most exciting thing you’ve found in the trash lately?