The Rutabaga In The Corner

Here, we have a chair. Nod your head if you agree. Thank you.

Aha! There I have you. This is not actually a chair. Chairs are chairs only if they are sat on. And while this assemblage of wood, material, stuffing, wire and thread may assume to be a chair, it is not. Because it is never sat on. It might as well be a giant rutabaga sitting in the corner over there.

Because this chair is for COMPANY only. Growing up, these pieces of furniture existed in the thousands. No one was allowed to sit on them unless they were company. When friends came in, you were instructed to tell them, "Don't sit there, it's for company."

Funny thing was, no one ever told you what company was.

Many families then not only had chairs like these, some had entire rooms that were set aside for company. Upon entering their house, you were perhaps allowed a view of the room but you were quickly ushered past into other rooms. Rooms, like basement rec rooms, that could be bricked up and hidden when company came over.

Some went so far as to encase all furniture in these special rooms in plastic: the coverings only to be taken off in case they were expecting... you guessed it... company.

Such silliness. I swore at a young age to never have such an item in my home.

Today, I was dismayed to discover that I have such a chair. It has all the symptoms. Even I feel weird sitting in it. When I do I have to be in a suit. And if someone comes in and sits in it my blood pressure goes up. Cold sweat appears. Breathing gets rapid and shallow. Because what would I do if all of a sudden company should show up and someone is already sitting in their chair?

I think I may need professional help.