Visits with a Chair
I never took it flowers, or dressed up in my fanciest of clothes, but every week I would go to the old antique shop, say hello to the lady behind the counter, and walk upstairs to visit the chair. She said I was allowed to sit on it for as long as I wanted, but I never stayed more than fifteen or twenty minutes.
It was called a chair and a half; crowded inbetween the plastic flowers and the used books, the chair was covered in a riot of faded flowers and had seen better days. It was squishy in all the right places, fit me perfectly, and just seemed to teeter over the wrong edge of my budget.
She said that no-one would buy it because it wasn’t new, and it wasn’t as trendy as it used to be, but I still loved it.
Why wouldn’t everyone want to put their feet up on a giant chair, and feel completely enveloped in comfort? Perhaps it reminded me of Alice in Wonderland, being a bit disproportionate for the average person, but delightfully dreamy for the rest of us.
One day, I went to visit, and the shop was closed. With no warning, my visits had abruptly ended, and the chair had disappeared. I do wish I had bought it, because it just suited me, and unless I am in a waiting room or sitting at my desk, I really don’t enjoy sitting up straight.
For a while, the loveseat was everything, and you could barely buy a sofa without one, but I never quite got the concept; it seems too big for one person, but too small for two, so what is the point? A chair and a half, while still taking up quite a bit of room, seems far more useful to me. It doesn’t imply you are waiting for someone else, it is the perfect spot to spend a quiet hour or two, you can squeeze an extra person in if you want, and yet it doesn’t look lonely when it is empty. The chair and a half, while having one of the silliest name’s ever, might just be my most favorite piece of furniture…
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