A Big Old Comfortable Chair

I was at pains to come up with a suitable entry tonight, when it struck me that I was sitting right on top of it. Our computer chair has been with me since my first apartment, thirteen years ago. My neighbor at the time, Mark, an affable but slightly smarmy guy owned the chair before me. It didn't surprise me when, one day coming home from work, I found all of Mark and his wife's possessions out on the front lawn. I guess they'd been having financial problems, hadn't been paying rent, and, as I learned later, fled.

Point is, Mark's already old but very roomy office chair was now sitting in the grass outside my apartment. I decided to give it one day, and if it was still there, I was nabbing it.

I nabbed it. Made sure to spray it really well with Lysol and flea spray first (affable, but smarmy...can't take any chances.) And here it is now, thirteen years later, with a new (used) wheel base (the original legs broke), a good bit rattier, probably somewhat filthier, and just as comfortable as it's ever been.

I can't explain it. I know it's ugly. It's cat-clawed, mangy fabric is barely clinging to the skeleton in a few places. The padding is worn out, and the springs squeak a bit when you pivot. But it fits me. It knows just how to cradle that nagging spot in my lower back, and how to support my head when I'm stumped for blog ideas (tonight is probably the first night that's happened).

I've seen many potential replacement chairs, and none of them have the "it" factor. And I don't think it's likely any ever will. An old comfortable chair is as much a part of you as your spleen or your liver. Maybe your appendix or one of our kidneys is a better analogy. I could live without my old chair, but I'd be losing a part of myself, and I'd never get it back.

And a chair is too big to fit in a mason jar on your mantel.