Why We All Have a Chair Full of Clothes
I’ve lived in about a dozen houses in different cities. I’ve met people from dozens of different countries, guys who eat bugs, people who don’t have cell phones, singles addicted to Tinder, and beautiful large families with houses full of kids sorted by height and hair color.
I have come to the conclusion that the overstuffed chair is the true cultural nexus of the West, what binds nations together, what makes all men equal.
I’ve traveled to the ends of the earth and back. I’ve imbibed millions of books soaring through centuries and cultures. And I can assure you that there is no better kept secret, no greater taboo, and no more universal mystery: why the hell does everyone always have a chair full of clothes in the corner of the bedroom? And why do we hide it from others? Are we ashamed of it?
In those chats with friends, blessed with wine, the darkest secrets always come to light. You hear about infidelities, corruption, political conspiracies, and the like. But you’ve never heard anyone confess that they have a damn chair with a huge mountain of clothes next to the bed, and that it’s not a work of contemporary art.
I’ve been reorganizing my house this week. You know, I moved furniture, beds, sofas, rearranged all the closets, and reorganized my bookcase. When I was finished, the house was spotless, it looked brand new, I was tempted to take pictures of it and upload it to Instagram as if I was the reincarnation of Marie Kondo. But after barely five minutes had passed, I whizzed into my gleaming room, turned my head, and there it was! The chair with a three foot pile of tangled clothes was there.
It was there in the past. There is a booby trap at the entrance to my room that is only activated by the pressure of a female heel, and which emits an immediate question: “Why do you have all those clothes there? Fed up with the question, as a sociologist I have found it necessary to conduct a study. Although the origin of the chair is uncertain, most people claim that it grows vertically for three reasons: “I’ll wear it tomorrow”, “it’s not clean but it’s not dirty either”, “it’s not my size anymore, but maybe I’ll lose weight”.
The chair represents a limbo in our hygiene habits. It is temporary but eternal. We are not able to do away with it, nor do we understand why it reproduces itself as soon as we leave the house. Personally, at this point in my research, I’m inclined to believe the chair goes into Toy Story mode whenever we’re not looking at it. For this reason I have installed a 24/7 recording webcam focusing on the chair (I will continue to report).
If you have a pile of clothes on a chair (you do) and you want to get rid of them I have some bad news: it’s impossible. You can’t leave those clothes in the closet because you and I both know they’re not entirely clean, and clothes that aren’t entirely clean can contain killer, contagious microorganisms that could make all the clean clothes in the closet become nearly-clean, and then you’d have a chair of nearly-clean clothes and a closet of nearly-clean clothes, and every morning when you got dressed you’d be itching all over.
Hanging them on the coat rack is not an option. There are coats on the rack. Nearly-clean clothes entering the territory of the coat rack would be something like a Hamas terrorist, armed to the teeth, walking around Jerusalem. The coats are on the coat rack and not in a closet because they are neither clean nor dirty, they just are. But the clothes on the chair are not like that, sometimes they are clean, just not today.
The ultimate solution is to throw everything on the chair into a “in-between clothes” hamper, but: what kind of undiagnosed psychopath has an “in-between clothes hamper”?
I have recently started therapy for mutual acquaintance between me and the chair. I hug the chair in the morning, affectionately tap the pile of clothes as I walk by, and even make promises I won’t keep: “I’ll soon buy you a table to keep you company!” We all know that, if I buy her a table, in addition to the chair with a pile of clothes, I will have a table with a pile of clothes.
The True Meaning of the Chair
Using elaborate techniques of sociological analysis, I have come to the conclusion that the overstuffed chair is the true cultural nexus of the West, what binds nations together, what makes all men equal, and in short, a source of pride like the national anthem, the army and our flag. Believe me. The chair full of clothes is not a failure. It is a declaration, a declaration on a par with the Independence of 1776, a definitive declaration, “I have more important things to do.”
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