I'm at work the other day, setting up my room, when another teacher comes in and stands near my computer. The computer is on a tall rolling cart, the same set up as every single classroom in the school, and the only way to use it is while standing on both feet.
"If only we had stools," she says.
Hey, I'm still in purging mode. I'm reasonably certain I have an old stool or two in the cellar from my last residence where I had a breakfast bar in the kitchen. I offer to search for the stools later and see if they're salvageable.
Once I'm home, I pick past the cobwebs of the far corner of the basement and discover not one, not two, but three old wooden stools. They're completely mangled from my old cat, and I'm not sure I can save them.
A few Clorox wipes and a whole lotta duct tape later, I start to believe there is hope. I cut nine batting (quilt stuffing) circles, three for each stool, and then I cut three squares out of the old bedspread I am tossing. I know I should cut the fabric into circles and iron down the edges, but this is for school. I don't really give a rat's ass what they look like underneath.
Many staple gun shots later, I have three stools: One for me, one for my teacher friend, and one for another teacher who rounds out our Trouble-making Trio. I don't care that these are semi-refurbished stools. I only care that our lovely tushies will be comfy at our computer stations and that we won't get (more) varicose veins from standing all day long.
