Have you ever felt attached to something that is completely without emotional value? I’m not talking about a teddy bear, or a book written by someone you know. I’m talking about a chair, a computer chair that I’ve had. I’ve just had it. I wasn’t sitting in it when the towers fell. It wasn’t a gift from a deceased relative. It’s just a chair. A chair I have been sitting in. A place for my ass.

I’ve just put my old computer chair out by the dumpster. In a way, I hope someone takes it before the garbage truck comes later this week. Not that it’s in very good condition; it’s missing screws and had a chronic squeak that can’t be fixed. But I hope someone takes it because I don’t want to look at it out there. Seeing outside by the dumpster makes me feel like I’m walking around naked.

Why would I be attached to it? It’s just a chair, and an old, overused one at that. I suppose the fact that it still looks like it’s in good condition makes me feel like I’m wasting it. But, anyone who takes a look at the underside will see there are some parts missing (broken off and lost). And if anyone sits in it, they will hear a creak that they may think could be fixed with WD-40, but they will be wrong, because the squeak is inside the very mechanism that attaches the seat to the base, like the support itself is warping. It is a squeak in the very soul of the chair.

I hope it doesn’t rain.

ARG! Shut up, it’s just a chair!