The Chair

The chair was out on the curb this morning. I sat in it and it felt good. I carried it home with one hand while balancing it on my hip and holding my dog's leash in my other hand. It was a crazy sight. When I got home after walking 4 blocks I showed my husband. He's used to this sort of thing with me. "There's another chair on the curb but it's in Blackstone, I saw it yesterday," I said. "Let's go get it."
"Now?"
"Yes, before someone else gets it." We drove the mile and a half and I could see it in the street.
"There it is," I said. "Just to make sure, I'll ring the doorbell." I jumped out and climbed onto the front porch. I heard a dog bark and a tall man came out.
"May I help you?"
I was smiling and wearing my big straw hat. "Yes, I was wondering if that chair in the street is being thrown out?"
"No, that's my favorite chair, that's the only chair I can get out of," he said, laughing.
"I'm so embarrassed."
"No, don't be."
"I just figured I'd better check. Where I come from things in the street are for trash pick up. You might want to move it into the yard."
"Nobody comes down here to the dead end."
"I do when I walk my dog," I said, laughing.