The children arrived home about 6:00 last night. We ordered Chinese Take-out and hung out together. They had a great time visiting with family back in North Carolina, and came back with lots of new goodies. This morning, we took down the Christmas tree, and then I pulled this chair out of the girls’ room where it has been languishing for months. They use it as a catch-all, but not for actual sitting. I put it where the tree had been, and then I sat down in it. I liked it just as much as I thought I would.
From my perch, I announced that this was my chair, and that they had encroached on every other sitting spot I had made for myself in the living room, and they were not to sit in this chair, even if it was empty. And to underscore this, I put my art basket underneath it. There are, for the record, five other spacious seats in the living room, and there are only four children here. When I was through sitting, I put my sketch books on the seat. Those won’t have to stay there very long, just long enough for them to absorb the habit of not sitting in my seat. I’ve put my journal and daily reading material to the side, and installed a cup holder on Grandmother’s sewing machine to hold my coffee/tea. I can see the television for those rare times I want to watch, although the angle is a bit odd; I can look out of the window and admire the now barren willow; and it’s very comfortable. The only thing lacking is a light source, and I will rectify that when I go to the store again, perhaps with a “natural light” floor lamp. That might allow me to cross-stitch again, and it might not. At any rate, it will supply good lighting for all manner of other things up to and including not sitting around in the dark. I’ll probably end up putting a knitting basket on the treadle of the sewing machine. Speaking of which, I need to figure out a new knitting project soon, because I want to watch the Tudors tonight. From my dedicated chair.
I also need to do some laundry, and the memory journaling I threatened to do on the first, and the drawing I didn’t get to on the second. But I digress, as usual.
Why is this chair important enough to write five hundred words about, you ask? Because I sometimes feel displaced in my own home. This is not a new thing–it was frequently the case in North Carolina. It has happened much less often here, but it’s not a pattern I plan for us to fall into. I am the queen here and this chair is my throne. Even when I am not sitting in it. Maybe especially when I am not sitting in it, because the sacrosanct seat will serve as a symbol of my beneficent monarchical matriarchal reign. At least my reign will be beneficent until I find somebody else’s happy ass in my chair.