From the time I was a wee lad I have had this really ugly wooden stool. It was originally a chair, which became a stool when I jumped off of it during my “Superman” period. (Turns out I couldn’t leap small buildings in a single bound.)

I really don’t know why I kept it because it was so ugly; it’s a blackish brown color with water stains and scratches all over it. But it had been my grandmother’s when she was a child, so it’s been in the family for over 100 years. It now has a spot in our mud room and is perfect for sitting on to put on shoes or boots.

“Honey, I hate my stool,” I said to the wife. “It’s an ugly brown color. I would much prefer a more colorful stool.”

“Well, dear, I didn’t realize the color of your stool was an issue for you,” the wife said sympathetically. “If you like I can add some more colorful foods into your diet, like beets, carrots, strawberries, pomegranate, red onion and Brussel sprouts. That might improve the color of your stool.”

“Not that stool. I’m talking about my grandma’s stool in the mudroom. It’s hideous. It looks like something you’d find on the curb on large garbage pick-up day.”

“Well, let’s try to think of ways to improve your stool,” the wife suggested. “Stools are not a problem we can solve overnight. It takes time to analyze the situation, figure out how to improve your stool with texture and design.”

“We are still talking about the ugly wooden stool, right? Because I am starting to feel decidedly self-conscious.”

“Of course we are talking about the wooden stool. Let’s have a look at it.”

We both walked into the mudroom and stared at this sad little stool. It would be so easy to just pitch it and buy a new one from Wayfair or Ikea. But then I thought about my grandma. She would want me to show it some love by painting or refinishing it.

“It has beautifully turned legs,” the wife said. “The seat has a very nice contour. And the feet are very cute little wooden orbs. This is an interesting piece and I think your grandmother would be thrilled if you brought new life to her childhood stool.”

I strained for an image to come into my head. I gritted my teeth. I made some weird grunting noises.

“Do you have to go to the bathroom?” the wife asked. “Because we can discuss your stool a little later.”

“No. I was thinking. And now I absolutely know what I want to do to the stool. I am going to paint it in a whimsical fashion to emphasize its details and character.”

“Oh honey,” the wife said, “I always knew you could produce a good stool.”

“Are we talking about…”

“We are talking about that little piece of furniture that used to belong to your grandmother — nothing else.”

For four days I sanded, primed and painted the base coat and designs on the old wooden stool, and finally finished it off with three coats of sealant.

“Are you ready to see my stool?” I asked the wife.

“I am honestly afraid to answer that question.”

I took her by the hand and walked her into the mudroom.

“Oh honey,” she said, “that is absolutely perfect. Your grandma would be so proud.”

Hopefully, my little stool will stay in the family for another 100 years.

Raul Ascunce is a freelance columnist for the Sentinel-Tribune. He may be contacted at [email protected].