The Chair.

Yesterday I posted a section that might have offended some of my friends. It's deleted, but if you did read it, I'm sorry if it hurt your feelings. I try so hard to never hurt people, but every so often my words get away from my sense of kindness, and it's damaged more than one of my relationships. I will try to be more thoughtful in the future :)

So. Today's news. I live alone. Ok, that's not the news, that's the setup. But anyway, I live alone. When I moved from Boston I donated or sold most of my limited furniture, so I arrived in my 900 sq foot apartment with a loveseat, an air mattress, detachable Target shelves, and piles and piles of clothes and books. Of course since then I've accumulated: I now own a dining room table, a real mattress, a dresser, and of course, bookshelves. Once I had most of these things, I invited my parents to come see how the place had "come together." They were appropriately proud for approximately two minutes, then my mom said, "Annie, you need a chair."

"Mom, I have the loveseat, and the dining room chairs."

"No, you need something else. You need a chair."

I employed the classic daughter-avoidance techniques, and she was suitably distracted, but every so often the subject would come up. "Have you gotten a chair yet?" After I used up all my excuses, I had to go with the truth. "No, Mom, I actually don't really want one." This was the source of much shock. The fact that I was only one person who rarely entertains? "Uh-huh." The fact that I actually liked the open floor space that made the room feel larger and allowed me to do pilates and yoga without catching my toes on furniture? "Mmm-hmm." I suspected the reasoning was falling on deaf ears, but I wasn't sure until I opened an envelope under the Christmas tree and found a small handwritten gift certificate: "Entitles the owner to receive 1 chair."

"Mom, you got me a chair?"

"Well, I know you like it, but trust me, your living room is just sad."

Uh-huh.

Obviously I am not such a brat that I turn down Christmas presents, especially ones that are so well-meant. And I know who is genetically responsible for my stubbornness, and when I've been out-stubborned. So I conceded her point, and in January we trekked to GreenFront Furniture (it's crazy, y'all, they have about 5 warehouses full of furniture!!!! I've never been so overwhelmed by housing goods, and I used to go to IKEA all the time!) and I picked out a chair. The baby-puke color wasn't my ideal, so we ordered one in a different color, which takes longer to deliver.

It arrived yesterday. It is green and big and it looks comfortable but I wouldn't actually know. I've sat in it once. Not because I am trying to out-stubborn my mother but because from the moment I came home from work yesterday, my chair has looked like this:

Or this:

Or even a few times like this:

See, clearly it is comfortable! Clearly it is the comfiest chair ever and I am the luckiest girl in the world to have a mother who would buy me such a comfy chair! And clearly I am being punished for my ingratitude because clearly this chair is not mine at all. It is theirs, and goshdarnit if they will let my foolish butt ever enjoy the comfiness. I swear they're tapping out:

"You ready?"
"Yep, head on out, I've got it covered."

And I can tell they're ready to fight for it:

So basically this lovely, comfortable chair has become a symbol of my ineptitude at standing my ground. First of all, it's here. Second of all, I can't sit in it. Hopefully they will eventually relent a bit, after all, we've shared a loveseat and a bed peacefully for quite a few months (yes, they sleep in my bed--I like spooning, even if I'm the big spoon and the small spoon is fuzzy!), so I imagine we'll come to an agreement at some point. I would like to move it eventually, since it's blocking the flow, but obviously that will have to wait--would you have the heart to disturb this?

What do people who don't have pets think about?