Regular readers might recall how joyful I was to recieve a new swivel chair some time ago.
At the time, I was quite happy to recieve this new chair, having coveted it for some time, and I made this more than clear. In response, I was inundated with messages of congratulations.
"Score!" shouted Eli (via email), "Ride that chair, cowboy!"
He's fruity like that.
"I wish you and your new chair many years of wedded bliss," sighed Heidi (via the telephone), resigned to her fate as the perpetual bridesmaid/nonbride.
She knew she would never have a chance now. Not now that the chair was in my life.
"Chairs are a myth, perpetuated by the jeans companies, so they can sell more jeans, raising more and more funds for the coming race war," screeched Leigh (via SMS).
It's true you know.
Anyway, I have some terrible, terrible news for you all.
It all started at 9:30, when I was woken by my boss calling my phone.
I'm supposed to be at work.
Luckily, I picked the ideal day for my alarm to not go off and to sleep in, and not get to work until 11.
There was NOTHING to do. I found some stuff to do though, and was working on that when...
Suddenly, it seemed like gravity was becoming a much more active force in my life.
You might even say... "Holy fucking crap. I am falling now." You'd have to say it quickly though because... within a few seconds, I was on the ground, baby.
And not in the good "So, you're a buxom catholic schoolgirl, eh?" way.
The cause of my sudden delevitation? A wheel was missing from my swivel chair, prompting all sorts of uneven-stevenivity. For shame, chair manafacturers! For shame!
I reattached the wheel, but it became clear that it didn't want to stay put, terribly badly. Ow.
I got up, and tried reattaching it a third time, but it simply wasn't happening. Luckily, this time I didn't fall.
Perhaps some superglue will do le trick?