Reply to: sale-32175226@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2009-02-11, 5:04PM PST
hate to part with this chair
but it’s time to move on after a recent divorce
Cleaning house literally and emotionally.
Free to a good home.
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We bought it at Boeing Surplus the day we signed the lease on that first apartment on the hill. We had three sets of silverware, one chair and a lot of student loans. That chair was solid, substantial and overbuilt on bearings made for trucks. Rolling on casters capable of supporting tons of industrial product but only supporting one office worker at a time. It was created somewhere between postwar reality and prewar vision. No big name architect or hip designer attached. It was more Trenton or Cleveland or Pittsburg. It was blue collar Seattle when it was fishing and logging and Boeing building planes for the war. It was office worker all the way in government beige. Bland enough to look through, look past, look beyond. We talked about the office worker that sat in that chair for 8 hours a day behind a matching beige desk. And how he started to take on that same beige color when his soul, his passion, his ambition slowly drained out and into the cushion of the chair with each tick of the clock hanging on the wall. We talked about how we would never sellout and work in jobs like that. We talked about it while we sat in that chair. One of us or both of us. Reading the Sunday paper. Drinking coffee in November wearing sweaters and hats trying to hold off a little longer and not turn on the heat. Or drinking gin & tonics in July wearing nothing much at all sitting two feet from the fan. That chair was not built for comfort. Steel and naugahyde. It was built to last.
That chair is still here.
But you left.
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