I have an Uncle Tom. A Great-Great-Uncle, actually. Well, he’s dead, but I did have one. And he had a chair. This really great pink chair with excellent bones. After Uncle Tom died, it sat in my grandparents’ basement, which, when they died, became my Aunt’s basement. I can remember sitting in the chair reading and thinking, “someday, I’m going to have this chair in my house and I will sit and read in it.” And indeed, all of that came to pass.
I liked how the chair fit my hips exactly, and I was charmed by the spring that had come loose, so the seat was a little askew. Eventually, the cats took over the chair. Antares decided it was a great scratching post. I held off getting a new chair, because I was afraid they would adopt the new chair as their scratching post, just as readily as they did this chair. But I have acquired a new chair, so this chair will stand by the side of the road until it finds its new owner.