Spotlight on: "The Chair of Contention"

 

Long before we have everything, we have nothing. Somewhere in between we have something. One kind of something is, simply, things. We have things. Some of us have a few things. Some of us have lots of things.

Adam finds things. I thrill to the hunt as well, so I'm impressed with most of the things Adam finds. But unlike Josh, I didn't have to live with these things until now.

Presently, there's one thing that Josh has always, let's say, disliked, that I too, having once admired, now loathe. Not aesthetically -- I still consider it one of the visual highlights of the basement; I loathe it functionally. The so-called "Chair of Contention."

It's deviously uncomfortable, in a Spanish Inquisition way. At first, you'll be deceived. The seat is firm, with a little give. In about two minutes, though, your ass is crying out for a throw pillow, an inner tube, even a bale of hay.

And the back of the chair hits you about 3" below your shoulder blades.

But Adam got it dirt-cheap, maybe even free. Yes, it's uncomfortable, but it's a fine example of late-50s, early-60s (I don't know) American furniture. What should Adam have done? Not brought it home?

Josh is at work but I can hear him shouting, "Yes!"

Chair of contention.

Last one down the stairs gets...

The Chair of Contention.