I did a yard sale this Saturday for all of the stuff we didn’t sell a few weeks ago; our house is uniquely situated on Main Street so we get plenty of traffic. I didn’t put one sign out. In less than an hour I’d sold a lamp, the keyboard, my glass carboy, a small table, $30 worth of baby clothes,  and a bunch of other stuff. One of the things I’d put out was the Danish modern leather chair I inherited from my college roommate, who had inherited it from his father when we came back to school my sophomore year. It was the chair IKEA ripped off when they made the POÄNG, which later appeared in dorm rooms worldwide. It was comfortable, padded well, and made of beautifully laminated wood in single solid pieces (unlike the Swedish ripoff). When we got it, the stitching in the leather was beginning to come unraveled, and over time it got worse. By the time the chair made it to this house, the ottoman was in tatters and the set of the chair was not far behind. Finley used to try and eat the foam as a baby, so we retired it to the attic in the hopes that someday we could have it re-upholstered. After fifteen years, I gave up on that dream and out to the yard sale it went. At noon it was still on the curb with a big FREE sign taped to the cushion, and it stayed out there until this morning; when I got back from dropping Finn at school I noticed it was gone. I will admit, I was hit with a pang of regret; I will miss sitting in that chair as I remember it—all of the leather intact, with a beer, watching Letterman on our thrift-store color TV.