Mammal Matters

What I’ll miss: Furry poofy chair

It came in a cube-shaped box, early 2004. I sheathed it with its furry coat, then I sat on it and kneaded the foam to a plumpy-round, sitworthy form. It has endured over five years of sitting, jumping, lying, napping, rabbit-resting, child-wrestling, cuddling, reading; what have you. Two to three adults have sat on it at the same time. Maybe four. Zillions of children. It more than filled the measure of its creation. Also, truth be known, I never washed it. It had collected a lot of dust and hair. It was crusty and matted in some places. Its time had come. I’d always called it “furry poofy chair,” others had also called it “gorilla.” My chest tightened a bit as I left it in the basement a couple days ago.

What I won’t miss:
Furry poofy chair’s tendency to collect all the dust and hair in the apartment. Also, every NYC apartment’s tendency to collect all the dust and hair in the city. If you live here, you totally know what I mean.


So you know, there are these people who, no matter what, have to say something that one-ups everything someone else says. Your dad’s a lawyer? Well, my dad’s a lawyer AND  a rocket scientist who won the Nobel Prize three times and donated the prize money to relief efforts of the past two natural disasters. AND he’s hot.

This past week, I let a friend know I was playing this game with her. I can’t even remember what she said first. Maybe it had something to do with her running, because she’s training for a marathon. And she’s doing a wonderful job, progressing quite nicely. Well, I don’t even know how my brain went there, but I scrambled, because I had to one-up her somehow, and I’m not doing anything really athletic right now but hey, it was random enough, and it might be enough for the win, so I declared:

I’m amazing. I look great naked.