Stool Sampler

My amazing husband crafted ceiling-high, built-in book shelves for our dining room. These shelves are a precious gift to me because, as a rule, my husband does not do woodwork. He does history and theology and car maintenance. But not woodwork. I love my bookcase, but I often have to play librarian and stand on a step ladder to reach the upper shelves. When I was a little girl, I was fascinated by those library ladders that slide on a track across shelves chock-full of books. Maybe someday. . .if we build Dilbert’s Ultimate House. (I would replace the home theatre with a library!)

At any rate, I had been using a utilitarian metal stepladder. My mother bought it for me when we lived in an old apartment whose ceilings were twice as high as the rooms were wide. It was an odd old place, and everything was very high up—the light fixtures, the windows, the pantry shelves. I was expecting then, and my mother did not want me falling off of the wobbly chairs I had to use to reach things. Thank you, mom! The metal stepladder served us well for many years. For my custom-built dining room shelves, I was ready for a step stool that was a little easier on the eyes, and maybe something that we could even sit on when we were not climbing. After all, everything must have multiple uses!

One day, it happened. I found an old Cosco step stool. I must confess I have been coveting my dad’s, which he keeps in his workshop. (We just learned that Ben Franklin invented this type of chair, with steps underneath that fold out. He invented everything.) My dad offers us many treasures from his workshop but, interestingly, the step stool was never one of them. That confirmed to me just what a useful item it was! I saw the same type of stool at a yard sale on the way to church one Sunday. I slammed on the brakes and pulled over. The kids, seeing the yard sale and immediately apprehending what I was up to, begged me not to get out of the car.

I paid too much for it, but I had no time to bargain. We were late to church and I had three caged animals in the car. I dropped $10 for the step stool. I can hear you gasping. It was in decent shape, though. It had some wear and tear and paint splatters that I knew would be easy to clean up.

Acrylic paint to the rescue as usual! (You know, the little bottles of paint that you can get for $.25 each.) I painted the two steps’ treads black. It brought them back to life. I have learned that uniform color (i.e. paint) covers a multitude of sins.

I also happened to have metal paint from my Martha Stewart days. (You never know when you may need to paint the covers of baby food jars in which to store your hand-blown glass beads!) Since I had the paint and had never used it I figured, why not now? I could touch up that grey metal trim.

Of course, the vinyl-covered seat and back looked pretty shabby by now. But I figured I could recover them with fabric--just like I did my dining room chairs. I even had left over fabric from the window valances that I made for this room. Imagine! A MATCHING stepstool.

I must admit that I had to muscle the seat back on. A layer of home decorating fabric and sturdy clear plastic is a lot thicker than an old sheet of vinyl. The seat is held on with metal brackets that fit through holes in the frame and bend over to secure the seat. With my “improvements,” the seat got thicker, but the brackets did not get any longer. They did not reach the frame. Because everything on this step stool is metal, I couldn’t just stick a few wood screws in it.

Not to be denied my MATCHING step stool, I loaded the seat with heavy objects for a few days. I hoped the weight would compress my upholstery and make the brackets reach. It worked a little. The seat is on (barely). It is functioning just fine for our needs. We just can’t dance on it, that’s all!

To make it shinier, I cleaned up the chrome legs with steel wool. It only took a few minutes. The finishing touch: felt pads on the feet so our “new” step stool will painlessly glide over the wood floor.