I have no proof of this, but am certain that some evil marmoset has moved into my throat and nasal cavity, and alternates scratching the hell out of my throat with steel wool and filling my head with cotton balls so I can neither breathe nor think.
I've been dosing myself with massive pots of pomegranate tea and fistfuls of whatever psedo-meth-containing "daytime" medicine for various ailments promises to keep me from falling over while I attempt to prepare to start my new job on Monday. This has the side effect of making everything slightly shiny and certainly brighter than it is in reality, and has driven me to eye the chairs I purchased in a Nebraska thrift store last weekend with a malevolent gleam in my eye.
In Lincoln, I scored a set of two vintage Gunlocke wooden armchairs for next-to-nothing, and after convincing the skeptical salesman that yes, I could fit two armchairs into a Honda Civic, I schlepped them all the way home to Chicago.
Why were they so cheap?
1) there seems to be little market for this sort of thing in Nebraska, so no one banks on being able to get top dollar for their used furniture, and
2) my god, that vinyl seat covering is ugly. If it had been leather, I'd have left it alone, but the shiny plasticky vinyl eats at my brain.
I have a heavy-duty staple gun and a yard of charcoal wool, however. These things, in my This Is Your Brain On Lots of Cold & Sinus Meds head, meant it was time to reupholster. Apparently, it worked.