In the alley behind my office building a spied a 1950's era office chair sitting forlornly next to a dumpster. Upon closer inspection, she was in perfect condition save a minor rip in the seat. She's a big girl, constructed entirely of metal with rolling wheels connected to a swiveling seat with a back. She didn't have arms, but neither did the Venus de Milo, and that hasn't held her back at all.
Delighted, I tried to lift her in my arms and run giddily down the alley. Alas, she's a heavy girl so I had to settle with pushing her down the alley, trundling more than running.
I introduced her to my office, explained that she was a rescue and then named her Margaret. Margaret had proved to be a fine addition to the office, quiet, unassuming and sat upon from time to time. Until Friday, when in a fit of productivity and wearing flip flops I flew past her, catching my little toe on one of her casters. I mentioned that there is nary a plastic part on her solid, post-war frame? There was crack, a flash of blinding pain and then an exodus of expletives. My toe is solidly broken which impacted my Friday night plans, as even if I could have worked past the pain, it would not matter because the toe is so swollen it wont fit in any of my shoes.
Margaret is on notice. Quiet, nice, keeps to herself JUST LIKE A SERIAL KILLER. I have my eye on you Margaret.
Most. Hilarious. Post. Ever!
Posted by: Becky | June 09, 2009 at 07:42 AM