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I need a break. My legs can’t take this anymore. I’m sore every single day.

I’m living that ‘NO DAYS OFF’ grind.

I’m working as hard as I’ve ever worked in my entire life. Gatorade and Nike should both sponsor me, that’s how hard I’ve been working.

I’m providing incalculable support. I should be deemed an essential worker by this point.

I know there are a lot of bigger problems in the world to face right now, but I have to admit it or I might break. I’m tired. I’m just so tired.

I am merely a humble desk chair. I reside in your home office, more decorative than functional for these many years. But these past few months, a human butt has occupied my space for 8 hours a day.

I’m exhausted.

I used to live a simple life. Some days, I was covered by clothes which had only been worn for a day, and therefore weren’t technically dirty yet. Sometimes, had mail or unread magazines strewn across my body. Occasionally, a makeup palette rested on my seat. Then, there were the special days when she brought me out during a party, as an extra place at the table or for movie night. I loved those nights. They felt special.

I used to have it made! She used to sit on me for a couple of hours a week, maximum! It was largely on the weekends, when she would decide to write something or write her rent check! Now, look what’s happened to me. I’ve aged 4 years in the past 4 months.

Ever since COVID-19 broke out, this human has been parked on me for 5 days a week.

I’ve had to listen to her yammer on during about a zillion conference calls per day. And that’s not to mention how loud her typing is. CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK, CLACK.

I need some ear plugs. I need a massage. I need some stress relief, STAT.

Chairs need self-care too, okay?

I thought everybody was so excited about those trendy “standing desks” nowadays. I thought sitting was “the new cancer.” Meanwhile, sister has been sitting for hours 8 hours a day. I mean, what’s her deal? Would it kill her to get up and move a little more? Maybe she could alternate sitting one day and standing the next.

I can’t adjust or escape.

I’m just stuck there beneath her, providing her comfort at the expense of mine. If there was a way to make myself less plush and ergonomic, so help me God, I would do it.

Also, when did she decide she didn’t have to put on clean pants every day? I’m all for saving water—and thankfully she doesn’t sit on me after a run or anything—but I would appreciate a little more consideration in her daily habits. This is my life too, you know.

And while she’s kept me well-fed thanks to a steady stream of crumbs I’ve collected, I wonder why she doesn’t eat her meals at the kitchen table, like a normal person? Hasn’t she ever heard of work-life balance?

I know, I’m complaining a lot.

I’m trying to find some positives amidst everything. This pandemic has definitely changed my perspective on some things.

For example, I can’t deny it’s been nice to have someone to keep me company. I have to say, on the weekends, when she stays in bed or sits on the couch, I kinda miss her.

And sure, I’ll admit it: I get a little jealous.

Like when she’s sitting in another chair in the kitchen or outside on the porch, I miss the warmth of our connection. I even miss the heat from her leg sweat,

I miss when she leans back and stretches, sinking in deeper and filling my frame.

I miss hearing her occasional frustrated groan or sigh. I miss how she digs her fingers into my sides while reading a particularly stressful email.

Look, this pandemic is testing relationships of all kinds. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy when I heard those three words: “work from home.”

And while I’d like to relieve some of the pressure from her omnipresent bottom, I just might miss her when things finally go back to normal.

Erin Vail

Erin is the 2003 West Reading Elementary Geography Bee champion, a TV obsessive, and never not thinking about Buffalo sports.

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