The Fluffy Chair

I used to have a really nice recliner chair until my late dog Molly turned it into her bed. She took a perfectly good chair and destroyed it with dog slobber, dog hair, and all around doggy odors. Whenever I wasn't home or sitting in that chair, there would be Molly lounging in it. Eventually I had to toss the thing, but luckily my friend Dennis was unloading a bunch of his crap at the time. One of the items he was disposing of was a huge, fluffy, white recliner chair. I couldn't pass it up. The price was right, and I only had to move it about thirty feet over to my apartment. Price and ease of moving trumped style. I'm not saying Dennis' chair wasn't stylish, it just wasn't what I liked.

I've had that thing now for about five years, and it's showing the wear and tear of my big fat ass. Across the base of the back, right about where my tailbone rests, is what feels like a two by four piece of lumber that pokes me no matter how I try to avoid it. That and the fact that there are now holes in parts of the arm rests, thanks to Chandler when he was a puppy, says it's time to buy a new chair.

Oh, and that Fat Kitty has taken to barfing all over the thing, and using it for a scratching post doesn't hurt the cause either. The only problem will be keeping all the animals off the new chair, because it seems the aroma of where I've been sitting is irresistible.