Jealous? You should be. I'm sitting on this slick little number right now. It's sleek. It's curvy and padded in all the right places. It BREATHES and it is READY FOR ACTION. I feel like I'm sitting on Carrie Ann Moss from The Matrix. You know, if she was a chair.
Katr and I bought this office chair for me this weekend. Usually when we "work" on the weekends, Katr works in our office and I read your blogs and play Neopets in the dining room. Because we both acknowledge that she is the one actually working, Katr gets the comfy office chair and I get the dining room chairs. The dining room chairs are great for short term sitting, but after a couple of hours my ass gets sore, I get frumbly and I can't feel my feet. I then either turn to knitting or bothering Katr (sometimes simultaneously), but because my ass is sore, I'm frumbly and I can't feel my feet, I'm not in the mood to take on essential household chores like laundry folding or fish maintenance. Not a good scene, as the laundry pile is often so big that we need a divining rod to find our damn ginch.
The last few weeks, however, have been very busy for me, and likely will be for months to come. And so I find that on the weekends, when Katr is actually working, I too am ACTUALLY WORKING. And the dining room chair? It would no longer do. So we hied ourselves to the Office Depot, where a variety of chairs styles and ergonomic ratings nearly overwhelmed us. Sadly, we had to say no to the "massage office chair":
Me: Ooo hoo hoo - bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz . . .
Katr: Don't you think you'll find constant buzzing and vibrating a little . . . distracting?
Me: I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the buzz of my new chair. And take off your shirt when you talk to me.
Fortunately, a number of other chairs were quite appealing - until we saw their price tags. Comfort don't come cheap, people, and it DEFINITELY don't come assembled. At that point, the massage chair was totally out of the running; no way am I going to bring home an item of assemble-it-yourself furniture when there's a good chance I'll electrocute myself before I even get to use it. In the end, we went with simple, sleek and very reasonably priced. We put it together on a Sunday, with the sun shining outside and a drug war going down in the alley. We rolled it into the dining room. I sat. And I knew in that moment that I might never, ever get up.
So here I am, sitting on the cloud of comfort that is Carrie Anne, looking forward to a productive and delightful day. I can work longer; I can think better; I can peep with more dedication. For, perhaps most importantly, this new office chair gives me an even more comfortable perch from which to contemplate the actions of my neighbours. Or my neighbours getting action. If you know what I mean. And I think that you do.
In other news, I feel compelled to mention that Miro, a frequent and hilarious commenter on these pages (you may know him by his handle, the "Viscount of Knockers") has written yet another searing look at the dark underbelly of children's games in his piece Rock, Paper, Scissors Redux. By anthropomorphizing Rock, Paper and Scissors, the Viscount tickles us, moves us, makes us think twice about ever using scissors - EVER - and once again proves that he is a very VERY funny man who might have too much spare time. So you find yourselves a comfortable chair - maybe get a coffee - and enjoy an excellent, incisive read. Happy Wednesday!
