Apparently, those in the star sign of Cancer like to nest. We are little crabs who are soft on the inside, tough on the outside, who spend their lives looking for little burrows to squish into and stay warm. Playing up to type, I have a Pinterest board dedicated entirely to ‘cosy spots’. Comfy armchairs with woven knits, views of the ocean, cushions and throws, small flat surfaces nearby for stack of books and some Coles-brand sparkling water.
A good chair has long been something I’d consider an ‘interest’ of mine, perhaps even stretching into what we might call a ‘hobby’. When Carrie dated Aidan on Sex and the City and he made her that CHAIR – that leather and wood CHAIR that she could curl up in and rest a mug on – in that moment I fell in love with Aidan too. A sapiosexual is a term for someone who is attracted to someone’s intelligence. A demisexual is attracted to emotional connections.
Intelligence and emotions are nice, but mostly, I like chairs.
The world is full of examples of people yearning for something they don’t actually REALLY want because it represents something else. And on some level I thought that maybe I longed for a cosy spot because I actually wanted to spend less time on my phone and more time reading. I know, I know. You don’t need a chair for that. You just need discipline.
I kept this in mind when I went to IKEA and I saw the most perfect 70s chair (and matching footstool) in mustard yellow. “That’s four hundred dollars of chair, Kate. You don’t have a car. You don’t have the space.” I reasoned, sighing as I left the store.
The next morning I woke up early and found myself rearranging my room. Don’t need this, don’t need that. Move this whole thing here. What if I turned this around? What if I threw this out?
Lo and behold, I had created the perfect spot for a chair, a chair I didn’t yet own. And after playing tetris with the massive box in Ally’s car boot, it was home two hours later, and assembled an hour after that.
I sit in it OFTEN. I am sitting in it now. I sat in it before my gym class. I sat in it to look at the sky and read a book. I sat in it to drink coffee. I sat in it to write. Every time I sit in this chair, and I am not exaggerating, I break out into a grin that takes up my WHOLE face. This chair is not a stand in for some other thing I want in life. This chair is what I want in life.
It was because of this chair that I took out contents insurance. Not my laptop. Not my iPhone 8 Plus (basically a giant TV screen I cannot justify and did not need). Not my wardrobe. The chair. How could I let it live in a house unprotected? What if something happened to it when I wasn’t home?
When I called the insurance company, the rep asked if I had any specific items I wanted to list on my insurance agreement. “Oh, yes, my chair” I said. “I mean, things like jewellery or art” she clarified. “My chair cost four hundred dollars” I said. “That doesn’t count” she replied.
Oh, but she doesn’t know my chair.