Counting Chairs

Once, when I was much less wise than today, I counted all of the chairs I had in my house. Easy chairs, kitchen chairs, patio chairs, dining chairs, etc.. That was quite some time ago, and I was not only startled by that number, but would now also be embarrassed to reveal it. I have since gotten into the "business" where I have crossed paths with many more examples of marvelous seating. I have found that there aren't many kinds of chairs I DON"T like.
We host many large family gatherings, including having had five small backyard weddings. So I'm including folding chairs too, but at the max those would only have been about a dozen. We like croquet and lawn parties and have those stacking plastic chairs to add to the picturesque vintage ones when the occasion calls for it. (Another dozen there.) People used to borrow chairs. There was that whole idea of sharing resources. Borrowing was just a way of life. There used to be somebody home next door, and they used to stock things like sugar, milk, and eggs. And chairs.

But lets face it, we are a sitting society now. Virtually every activity all day long requires chairs and lots of 'em. I'd just be crazy to go around counting all my chairs now. And it's getting on to summertime, and those back yard parties, and you don't want to have to go scraping up a chair from every corner of the yard when you want to take a quick break now do you?
Thoreau said, "I had three chairs in my house: one for solitude, two for friendship, three for society." How simple. How admirable. Even the very eccentric-ism of the odd number. . . , three.
Until you read further. . . ,"I never found the companion that was so companionable as SOLITUDE."

Well, there you have it.

I'd rather have Dorothy Parker's number:

"FOUR be the things I am wiser to know:
Idleness, sorrow, a friend, and a foe."
(from Enough Rope, Inventory)

Oh yes, the kids chairs, too!

When they got home, the rat made a bright fire in the parlour, and planted the Mole in an armchair in front of it having fetched down a dressing gown and slippers for him, and told him river stories till suppertime. . . Supper was a most cheerful meal; but shortly afterwards a terribly sleepy Mole had to be escorted upstairs by his considerate host, to the best bedroom, where he soon laid his head on his pillow in great peace and contentment, knowing that his new-found friend the River was lapping the sill of his window."

Kenneth Graham, from The River Bank chapter, The Wind in the Willows

Ciao! Thanks for stopping by! Here's wishing you fine rowing weather!

Jacqueline