The Republic of Chair Pad

How did I find Zero Hedge?  Was it on a sunny day like today?  What was I doing when those first apocalyptic storm clouds starting creeping up on the horizon of my chicken coop-sized condo?  Likely, it was 2009 and I was putting words like “economic meltdown” and “zero interest rate policy” in a search engine.

It’s not the happiest of places on the internet and I’ve had to stop reading it for periods of time to stay focused on staking my tomatoes or planting a “Redemption Garden.”  But last week, I heard a little “chatter” about gas prices, so I took a trip to the edge of the hedge.  I got caught up on things financial and then read this interesting article about excess stuff by Charles Hugh Smith.

I only glance at piles of junk with “FREE” signs on them now.  Who needs another broken basket from The Easter Bunny Shoppe or a bud vase someone was too lazy to recycle?  I certainly don’t need any upholstered furniture that’s been soaked by a sudden shower and I’m not sure I’d pick up a used cat box even if I did have a furry chicken here at The Coop.

I had my “cat’s eye” on the other day while driving a different route home from work and after I passed the “FREE” pile I said to myself “was that a pile of six hand-braided chair pads?”  Given the usual McJunk in these piles of detritus, I contemplated the unlikeliness of such a treasure and turned my Jeep around anyway.  My cat’s eyes have not yet begun to fail me.

I took a quick whiff to make sure they hadn’t been lining a furry chicken box and they passed the test.  When I got home, I examined them closely; they made me sad because they looked newly braided, like a project someone had lovingly acquired and then discarded.  Braiding wool into rugs is a time-consuming hobby, but the results are beautiful and long-lasting.

I’m not sure what I’m going to do with these chair pads.  They don’t quite fit my atomic-age yellow Formica kitchen table set like your grandparents had in their triple-decker apartment building around the corner from the insert name of stuff we no longer produce factory.

I don’t want them to end up in a “FREE” pile again.

I’ll find a good home for them; somewhere over the rainbow, east of the land of make-believe, and just across the river from a town called malice.

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