I am King of the Chesterfields, if finding 3 makes you king of something

The first Chesterfield in my life was my own beloved tan suede Chesterfield on which I now sit. I seldom sit unless I sit on it. It is straining at its overuse, pulling itself apart at the seams. Buddy's refuge and playground- where I hold and nest with the stray guy I might have over. It is somewhere between 7 feet and infinity and barely fits. The front door rubs against it. The fireplace blisters against it.  

The Chesterfield has shown up in every medium, symbolizing everything from downtown chic (in a Madoona (typo, but let's leave it) video) to entrenched upper class taste (in every Parliamentarian's office in British film). 

They tend to occur in ox-blood red leather. Indeed, my second was the highly worn ox-blood red leather Chesterfield with box cushions seen in the vicinity of this paragraph. The faded and spotty cushions had to be painted many times with leather paint from McPherson's on 12th. Beneath the velcro'ed cushions is a lining patterned with the logo for "The Leather Store". There was nothing that could be reasonably done to disguise this. The damned thing was also missing a button, a problem which has often been about as easy to ignore as a missing jigsaw puzzle piece.  Smooth leather buttons are virtually nonexistent, and finding an upholsterer to recover a single button would damage my self-abasing nature. Luckily, I was able to snip a smooth leather dime-sized button from a bothersome, hobbled Plycraft chair that I was ridding through the auction. I painted it to match with acrylic paint. 

It looked convincing. I tried for nearly 45 minutes but it was impossible to reach the button with one hand while the other hand pushed the button in from the other side. The Chesterfield sat upended in the neighbor's yard. I stared at it with frustration. Finally, I stopped a group of passersby and asked one to push the button in from the front while I tied it to the frame. 

My most recent Chesterfield sofa is the deep red with the tufted seat spotted here grazing in the same neighbor's front yard. It is from the Sodo Salvation Army. I had stopped shopping at that particular Salvation Army because of the highly delusional prices on uniquely crappy items. Astonishingly, this was $169.00. Unsurprisingly, I only had $158.00.

My cashier repeatedly ran my debit card until we found the price that cleared.

The only other thing of note that I have found, other than Chesterfields, is this blog, whose name I had forgotten. The first thing I did after I tracked the damed elusive thing down was to change its name, from (?) Drastic Folly (Lawsy!).