The Cat on the Back of the Desk Chair

Timothy snapped this photo one day of Faith and me one night when he popped up to my room while I was still working.

It's typical Faith and me, since Faith has shared my desk chair since she was a kitten.

Sometimes she sits behind me, which is why I almost always sit perched at the end of the chair, even when I worked in an office before the COVID-19 pandemic.

In fact, during hose first few weeks in January 2014 when I became an actual Herald-News employee after being a freelancer for fifteen years felt strange without Faith sitting behind me, so I'd placed Snip there instead.

But if I leave my room for even a minute, I take any open drinks with me.

I learned my lesson years ago when I still worked in my attic office in Channahon.

One time, I ran downstairs to heat up my coffee, and then, when I returned,  my story was filled with random letters and lines and my keyboard was filled with water droplets and an ice cube.

Now if I could only train Faith to copyedit...

The New Desk Chair

I had just started moving bedding into the washing machine on the last Saturday morning in July, when Timothy strolled into my room with a large box and said, "This is your new desk chair."

And he proceeded to put it together.

"There's nothing wrong with my old desk chair," I protested, thinking of of the extra cost, although it was too late now. "It's comfortable and works just fine."

"No, it doesn't," Timothy said. 

Timothy said he sat in that chair the other day to update my computer and noticed all the stuffing was flat.

"You can't sit in that chair all day," he said.

"But I do. And the cats will destroy the leather."

"Rebekah ordered a chair cover," Timothy said. "It will be here tomorrow."

I took a closer look at the old desk chair. It was not quite four years old. Timothy was right. The chair was down to the wood.

I had to admit, the new chair was very attractive.

And comfortable.

Timothy pointed out the high back. "So you can rest your head when you take a break."

When I "take a break." He's hilarious.

"When you need to rest your eyes a minute," he said.

"I don't lean back in the chair. And I don't rest my eyes."

Well, I made a liar out of myself.

On Wednesday, I felt a little tired, a little gassy, a little achy, and a little "off." Twice, for less than two minutes each time, I lay my head back wondering where my pep went. Nothing screamed, "Go to the ER" to me.

I say "less than two minutes" because I was in the middle of a busy work day with a meeting that night to finish WriteOn Joliet's radio play editing. So each time I sat back up and buckled down.

However, not twelve hours later than the last mini rest, in the early hours before dawn, I weas heading off the ER for my first (and hopefully last) attack of diverticulitis.

But in those four divided minutes, I was sure glad for that new desk chair.

And on that Saturday, when the chair was ready to go, Timothy pushed it to my desk so I could work on my novel in comfort.

It really is a nice chair.

Surprisingly, the cats did leave the chair alone. The chair cover arrived the next day, as Timothy promised.

But Faith didn't need the chair. She had claimed the bubble wrap.

Have a great Monday!