Adventures in Decorating: Then There Was the Time a Goat Ate My Chair

When I was young, 11 or 12 years old, my mom took me to an auction where I bought a great chair for a few dollars. It was a captain’s chair, with a nice weathered frame and a brown leather seat that had acquired just the right patina over the its one-hundred year life span. When I came home I put the chair in the our barn, which turned out to be an unfortunate decision, because our goats also lived in the barn. One escaped and went on a rampage, which for a goat consists of climbing all over stuff and eating everything in sight. That poor chair didn’t have a chance. (Apparently, this sort of thing is a recurring theme.)

I'm still crying on the inside.