There's also something called fornophilia. Furniture fetish. The fornophiliac gets his jollies not from shagging a standard lamp, but from imagining himself or others being turned into or used as a piece of furniture. It's part of the bondage/BDSM schtick.
I'm very attached to my chair. I got it from ikea about 5 years ago, and it was pretty expensive, at least by our standards. I think it cost us about £125, which is a lot of money for a single chair.
But it was made of soft red leather. It swivelled freely. And it reclined quite a long way. It was comfortable when used for long periods. It allowed me to fall into a drunken sleep without waking up on the floor. I spend a lot of time in here, sat on this chair. I've more than got my money's worth from it.
Lately though, it was starting to show signs of wear. The leather had split at the front of the seat, revealing fabric and plastic innards. It was getting increasingly noisy. Every movement was accompanied by a squeak, to the point where Bren walked in with a can of WD40, and sprayed the moving parts liberally.
This morning, things weren't at all right. The chair wanted to swivel, and things were obviously sloping in ways that they shouldn't have been. So I had a closer look.
the chair is basically two parts - the main chair bit is a complete unit that terminates in a round pole. The other bit is a metal tubing base, similar in size and form to a steering wheel. The three spokes of that wheel go to a central hollow column, which the chair's pole sits inside. That's what allows it to swivel freely.
Two of the three spokes have ripped free of the central column, leaving the remaining spoke, and the column itself free to bend. The chair is not usable. If I try to use it, it will completely snap the base.
I suppose someone will basic welding skills will be able to turn the base back into something functional. Until then, I'm making do with a cheap plastic swivel chair. It's a pale imatation.
2 comments:
I've just caught up with your a month's worth of your blog posts. There was a very dark patch, metaphorically, in the middle of it. It made me depressed (in empathy?). I thought I couldn't go on reading at one point. I do live on the eleventh floor. It was so disheartening. If all else fails, go and see Angela Eagle and tell her you can't make ends meet. That sounded facetious. It was supposed to be witty and light. Something will turn up. It always does. I suspect a lot of your gloom is related to sitting alone in a room (with a computer) mulling your problems over and over. They may well appear worse than they actually are. I mean, just imagine if you had no skills or qualifications at all. Dunno what else to say. I wouldn't recommend TEFLing as a way out of your situation though. I know that.
Things are dark. This isn't just depression or pessimism. We keep falling further and further behind, no matter what we try to do. I spend far too little time worrying about stuff, truth be told. Bren bears the brunt of that side of things.
Yeah, Things could be worse of course. We could have far worse debt problems for a start. But shit keeps happening. People cancel lessons, without realising just how much we need their money. I got through the interview for the bus job but they'd filled the vacancies. I'm first on the list. That just leaves me hanging. At least if they'd told me I wasn't successful I'd know where I was.
Yeah, OK. That last bit WAS pessimistic. I could be starting with them next week. Still, it's hard to see the silver lining right now.
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