There is nothing so terrifying to me as the prospect of a moth invasion...except a cockroach invasion. It's the horror of knowing that if you see 1 = 10,000 you can't see...!
|Stay away, moth-chair!|
So, once a moth infestation was uncovered, I bagged that chair in plastic drop cloths and mothballs. But mothballs smell bad. Really bad. Like, I'm-going-to-throw-up-and-I-can't-sleep bad... So I started looking into getting it reupholstered.
It's turns out that shit is expensive. The average quote was $550 for labour, and an estimated $300 for materials. And they quoted fabric as $50-$70 a yard (3.5 yards for the chair).
So by the power of
After roughly 16 hours of labour, I birthed a whole new chair into the world.
My hands ached, my arms ached, my back ached, hell, even the arches of my feet hurt. This was WORK. Suddenly I realized what "working for a living" was actually supposed to mean. I feel like an asshole when I say "I'm going to work!" and I sit at a desk all day, broken only by walking to the kitchen for coffee...coffee I don't even grind.
I hate sitting, immobile, for hours on end. Give me a job swinging a hammer, or ripping out staples any day! How can you put any feeling of accomplishment on sitting on your ass, tapping at a keyboard? There's no physical product for the work I do, one flood in the office and everything I've ever worked on would disappear. It's all immaterial.
Maybe there's something to be said for a hard day's work, and the satisfaction of holding something you made in your hands...hell, I guess that's why trailer trash have so many babies...it's an easy way to feel like you've contributed...
But how the hell would I make money redoing chairs? The cost of studio space alone (at $3/sq ft you're doing well), and the cost of equipment would be killer...
But maybe, somewhere in my future is a little workshop, shared with friends, a happy dog, and piles of tools and half-finished projects.
Yea, I like that. Hell, it'd barely even be work. ^_^