This summer I spent several weeks investigating office chairs for my newly renovated writing room. I sat, spun, leaned back, bounced on, curled up in, and glided across the floor in more "pleather" chairs than I care to admit before finally settling on a winner. You'd think the chair would reward me with a least a year of two or life, but no. Take a look at what the shedding wonder looks like today:
The damage is even worse when viewed up close:
All around the house I'm finding bits of black chair covering strewn here and there. I assume it's adhering itself to my backside and hitching a ride to, say, the kitchen before deciding that this is its final destination.
The chair itself is still fairly comfortable, so I'm hesitant to get rid of it. Much as I try to avoid the thought, I suspect there is a roll of black duct tape in my future.