The Chair

My cell alarm rings.

Haven't heard its dulcet tones in 11 days over Christmas holidays.  I have it programmed to some generic techno-tune that the phone company believes the "kids" will relate and be "hip" to.  Dear Bell, its effectiveness as an alarm is based solely on the fact that folks would rather stick a flaming hot poker in their ear than listen to it.  Just sayin'....

Yoga!

Breathe and stretch and breathe and stretch and head between your knees 'cuz you're gonna fall down!

Dizzy.  I get dizzy from yoga.  From breathing.  This does not bode well.  According to my yoga magazine, I should be able to do this sequence of moves at least 5 times.  Dear Editor, did you mean 5 times in a row, or can I spread it out throughout the week?  Just askin'....

I used to be so flexible, so bend-y.  Now...well, I can say with complete honesty I have mastered 2 yoga positions: standing up (Mountain Pose!) and lying down (Corpse Pose! I'm not making that up...)

Virtue-breakfast and a streetcar later, and I'm back at work.

The first day back to work from holidays is always challenging: did I leave any loose threads before leaving?  Do I owe some work to anyone?  Why are there 300 emails in my inbox?  What do I do here again?

As I hung up my coat at reception, I turned and saw that every box of chocolate, cookies, cakes and candies we had received as holiday gifts from clients were still there.  We send our clients poinsettas.  They send us Satan's-Grab-Bag-o-Sugar.  In fact, the whole office is crawling with candy canes, marshmallow-fluff stuffed biscuits, layered cake things, Hershey's Kisses (how many varieties do they now have???), and a host of other chocolates of dubious parentage and questionable taste (is that soap?), but mother of Christ it's chocolate!!!

I turned to my cubicle for relief, knowing it to be bare of such temptations, and there it was...

The chair.

The chair that had accepted my ass into its polyester hands and claimed me as its own.  The chair with its wheels that propelled me hither and yon, not requiring me to actually get up and move.  The chair that, when I finally rose from it, had an air of one betrayed ("How could you? You've left me nothing but your butt print. After all I've done!" "I'm sorry! I'll be back. Promise!") And I did come back.  And I have come back.  But things have changed...

After having the one-two punch of the Everest of Goodies plus the Rear-perambulator, I resolved to a) not touch any of the Yuletide yumminess and b) have my lunch away from my desk and at another table...and another chair! One with no wheels, that requires me to move about! I will sit and talk with my co-workers rather than surf at my desk, my buttocks held firmly in the grasp of the chair. 

And I did. And it was good. And I was deaf to the chair's seeming indignation (I swear it moved itself away from me when I returned from lunch).

I finished my day, got off one stop early from my streetcar, and am now home to a dinner of super-sized salad.  I'll have to return tomorrow to my chair but I hope that one day we'll come to an understanding. And the chair will one day realize: I just wasn't into it.

LiliLaLarge