I often wonder what my furniture thinks of me. Does my living room approve of my friends? Does my couch appreciate my commitment to eat at the dinner table? Does my furniture think feng shui is just a bunch of hogwash?
If my walls do talk, the stories they must share with my home furnishings must be informative, possibly scandalous and often embarrassing. These walls have only known me for a short while so their stories can only be brief anecdotes at best. But what about the things my Duke of Windsor chair might say?
Oh, this is ridiculous. My Duke of Windsor chair wouldn’t say anything to tarnish my reputation. With twelve years of service, he has been the most consistent thing in my life. It would be silly to call him a sidekick. There’s no need to refer to it as, “your Grace.” That is not the kind of relationship established here. There is a bond built over time and common understanding built around necessity. I need it, it needs me.
If my Duke of Windsor chair were to talk, it would simply tell stories of past glories, party fables, quiet moments with sincere company and quite possibly a dirty limerick or two.