Dropped My Needle

 

Day 340: It all started when I dropped my needle. Any experienced needleworker will tell you that when you drop a needle, you mustn't move until you've made a thorough visual survey of the area, and if that yields nothing, the next step is to move as little as possible but enough that you can assess where it might have fallen and rolled out of sight. Having performed both steps but failing to find the object in question, I then resorted to standing up cautiously while watching to see if it fell off me, but it did not. It was not in the cracks of the chair which I explored carefully with my fingers. A flashlight did not reveal it on the carpet. I was beginning to panic. A loose needle is a dangerous thing to someone who walks barefoot and to an inquisitive cat. The needle had to be found.

My "genuine leather" recliner began peeling when it was less than two years old, the "genuine" portion being no more than a micron's thickness laminated to fabric. I didn't realize they could shave it that fine! I put a slipcover on it to hide the ugly bare patches, and in the present circumstance, figured the needle might have worked its way through. There was nothing for it but to remove the slipcover, and when I did so, most of the remaining "leather" flaked off in bits approximately 1/4" on a side: thousands of them, veritable thousands. I decided then and there that the chair had to go, so dragged it down the steps and into the carport where it sat overnight. I called the garbage company to ask how much they'd charge to haul it away, but was told that they were not accepting large objects due to COVID. Damn. It was time to formulate another plan.

So what's in a recliner? Wood, steel, foam, fabric, and perhaps a few molecules which might have been related to a cow. The last two would be of no use to anyone ever again, but the foam could be used to stuff a cushion. The wood could be burned or reused, and the steel...the steel could go to the recycler even if it had to be reduced to smaller pieces which would fit in my bin. Thus it was that I spent three hours this morning deconstructing a recliner, and all because I dropped a needle.

For want of a nail the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe the horse was lost.
For want of a horse the rider was lost.
For want of a rider the message was lost.
For want of a message the battle was lost.
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.