Ponder

The one by my desk is black, maybe with some speckles of gray. It has wheels and arm rests and a lever to adjust the height. It is touted to be quite ergonomical, and though I find it more comfortable than others, I hate this chair.

During a weekly meeting today, I sat in a different one than I normally do. It was wooden with a slightly rounded back. My ass remained glued to it for about two hours, and when I stood to walk up the stairs and begin sitting in the aforementioned chair, I realized that I hate the wooden one as well.

When it was time for me to return home, I walked down the stairs and sat down (again) in the seat of my car, which is really another name for a chair that can sometimes be comfortable enough to sleep in during long road trips. I sat in this one, made from a dead animal, for the entirety of my commute home through traffic and traffic lights. When I walked in my front door, the first thing I saw was my couch–a long blue chair, really. Though I felt tired from a full day of chair-sitting, I couldn’t bring myself to lower down onto the fabric.

My cat dozed for more than hour in a big plush chair in my living room. He does this for the majority of the day, I’d say for at least 8 hours. I wonder, how can he allow his body to become part of this chair for so long? His eyes are closed and he looks more peaceful than I ever do while sitting in my chair(s). Does what you think about,  not think about, or dream about whilst in the chair make a difference?

After a long slumber, the cat is now running wildly from the kitchen into the living room, bounding off furniture, and doing it all again. Later, I myself ran and walked around outside. I strangely felt as if I were a human, a real and alive being.

(I just realized that I was sitting in a chair, a white metal one with a vintage cushion, while writing this entire story.)