Suicide or Homicide? We decided to finish the dining room chairs instead.

This was a real toss up. I know I've mentioned this already, but-- at the risk of sounding redundant-- recovering those dining chairs was really a bummer of a job. The last couple of weeks have been especially nuts for us... we've both been working minimum 10-hour-days and I've been trying to squeeze in an awful lot after each work day... some time at the gym (so that I don't become the size of a house), the occasional french class, the odd dinner with friends, and then-- god forbid-- some actual relaxation with John... (Plus I had to devote at least 15 minutes a night to the guilt I was feeling about not having time to blog.) With all that was going on, these chairs had become the albatross in our apartment. What did they want??? Why were they here??? Why weren't they finished??? So terrible was the prospect of finishing them that we seriously discussed admitting defeat and hiring Lekhram (the master upholsterer) to do them instead, but they were really such a wretched task to recover, I didn't want to risk losing Lekhram as both a friend and reliable upholsterer in order to avoid doing them myself. 

We were stuck. Those chairs were our responsibility, and every day that they weren't finished brought us one day closer to the arrival of this baby. And the only thing less appealing than working on the chairs now would be working on the chairs then, sleep deprived and shell-shocked, with a new born attempting to sleep in the next room. Nope. It had to be done. So John and I stayed in the city this past weekend, and along with a long list of other to-do projects, tackled the remaining two chairs that needed to be recovered. And by god-- at long last-- we have prevailed. I confess that after we finished I did actually say that the last two seemed considerably easier than the first two, and maybe we'd procrastinated a little longer than necessary in anticipation of something more horrible than it really was. What can I say? Sometimes I have a knack for the dramatic. Especially when it involves whining, moaning, and postponing... 


I've got a gift. : )