Pinwheel

 

It started innocently enough: three generations watching BattleBots together. When the show was over, the older two noticed the younger one had spent the whole hour peeling bits of pleather off the office chair. No real harm done; the chair was easily replaced. We added the old office chair to our yard sale, but no one wanted it. We took the chair to good will, but they wouldn’t take it, either. Next week our HOA rented dumpsters so residents could dispose of things too large for our bins. John wheeled the chair into one and walked back home. Then he walked upstairs, down the hall and to the sewing room before he realized he’d stepped through a puddle of ink in the dumpster. Blue ink. Vivid, permanent blue ink. The good news is we now have new carpeting on the stairs and the entire top floor. The better news is we’re finally rid of the cursed chair.