Comfort

 

I was in a doctor's office waiting room last week, helping out a friend. While he was in having a procedure, I took a seat in one of the very comfortable looking chairs provided. For the first few minutes I was fine. Then I realized the seat was canted forward, maybe one degree off the level. You see I have a very sophisticated sense of comfort and I can feel such things. A grain of sand in my shoe feels like a rock. If I sleep in the same spot in my bed too many times, I can feel the divot I have created. I have a very good mattress, but I can feel it. Anyway, sitting in that waiting room became unbearable after awhile. It reminded me of going to parties when I was young. One in particular, thrown by one of my crazy friends, came to mind. I had never been to his apartment before, so how was I to know he had no furniture. He had a stereo, a cat, and a mattress on the floor. That was it. I didn't stay long. Besides, like I said he was crazy. He was known for bringing his cat to gay bars and dancing with it. Also, he spent some time in jail for threatening to kill a United States Senator. I asked him to never call me again after that.  

I find that in my older age I need comfort and won't put up with hard seats, bad shoes, and parties with no furniture. Yet for nearly one whole year I lived on a farm with a bunch of hippies. We all slept on what you might call 'roadside' mattresses in one big room, on the floor. Seriously, I have no idea where those mattresses came from. I slept like a baby back then. That was over fifty years ago. Now I avoid being on the floor for any reason. Mostly because of the intense effort it takes to get me back up on my feet. Besides, that's where the dogs hang out. Lots of hair down there.