My chair is falling apart. The leather of the seat. This morning I found a strip of fabric on the floor. Maybe two inches by an inch. But the chair is good otherwise. Comfortable, or at least comfortable enough. And I’ve had it for years. It’s like a member of the family. Well, not really, but you know...

Beneath the leather seat is stuffing. Probably not as much as once upon a time. I cover the seat with a cloth towel. That, you would think, would protect the leather.

So I took a picture of the strip of leather along with a little screw I found somewhere sometime who knows when. I keep it on my desk, for no particular reason. No, I don’t think the screw will be useful in mending the chair. The screw comes from out of doors—that I remember, sort of.

When doing my three-mile runs around the neighborhood, I sometimes pick up abandoned bits of this and that, such as the screw. Just yesterday I picked up a race car. Not a real race car, of course, but a lost toy, a Hot Wheels.