December 7, 2012 at 3:00 pm | Posted in 1, Compulsions, Humour, Mind, People, Sight, Society, Threats | 10 Comments
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Chairs Small

NOT as easy as it seems.

Few would comprehend (or believe) the lightning thinking that precedes your choice of chair.

You enter a waiting room (itself a feat).

First priority is safety.

Check the corners. Does one offer a view of the entrance through which your appointment will appear?

If so, can you also see outside (to avoid eye contact, pass the time and spot long-range threats)?

Corners mean you need monitor only 90 degrees for danger.

Walls, therefore, run a very poor second.

The centre, naturally, is right out.

But position isn’t everything.

Check the seating. Is it solo?

If it’s a two-seater couch, you may be able to thwart later arrivals with your bag and coat. (This also applies to pairs of chairs.)

If it’s a three-seater (or more) you may have unwelcome company.

What sort of couch is it?

If it’s too soft, slippery and/or deep, you may have trouble rising quickly to meet any threat.

Better a firm, high one with good back support.

But even the ideal chair in the perfect corner can come unstuck.

Is it near a radio speaker (perhaps blaring a chaotic commercial station)? The cacophony will erode your (frail) composure.

Is it next to a water cooler, rubbish bin, pamphlet stand, children’s play area or stack of filthy, outdated magazines?

If so, people (at worst, infants) may launch themselves at you from all quarters without warning.

Waiting rooms are so hideous, it’s best to be the first appointment of the day.

Though this carries its own peril if your appointment still contrives to be late.

The silver line to this stormy cloud concerns your partner.

If, after some time together, your covivant can scan a space with 80 chairs and point to the exact one you’d pick,

you’ll know it’s true love.

Marry them without delay.


Brought to you by The Feisty Empire.


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  1. I love a romantic story with a happy ending…
    Does that mean…???

    • Yes, Linda; it’s true! Fonnie was the only one who really understood me. And now she pays daily and dearly for her sins. Forever. πŸ˜‰

  2. I understand you, but I don’t look good in 6-inch heels. There but for the grace of god …

    • Metric, if you please. πŸ™‚

      • Sorry. There but for le grace de Dieu. πŸ™‚

        • de 2.0, s’il vous plait. πŸ˜‰

  3. Sorry to be twee. Does this exhaust you? I think we all of us have some sort of environmental sensitivity. Yours is in hyperdrive. Well, let’s do lunch anyway. I’ll fit out the Armaguard van as a French bistro. Thanks for the share. It’s fascinating!

    • Thank you, Ad. If lunch is for wimps, why do we make such a hash of it? You’d think we’d revel in our thyme … Oh well. C’est la vittles! πŸ™‚

  4. I love this post. It’s what I feel like every time I walk into a room. People who know me well don’t even try to pick a seat at a restaurant. They just stand there and wait for me to deal with trying some out. You do such a great job of showing what’s going inside my head when I’m choosing!


    • Dear Penelope, thanks so much for stopping by! I think I feel the same way about your comment as you do about my post! The recognition of a mutual experience is a powerful thing indeed. With kind regards to a kindred spirit, P. πŸ™‚

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