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On New Year’s Eve I ordered a refurbished chair from an office liquidations company, the sort of place that must be doing quite well out of the vogue for from-home working. Then I listened to a podcast about why it (the Herman Miller Aeron) is not a very good chair, but I felt no regrets because the office liquidators charge more for the podcast dudes’ favourite chair, and they had none in stock anyway. If you had a more thrilling NYE, you’re a liar.
The chair arrived this week, in an upside down box that looked like it had been in a fight – which was entertaining, and hadn’t affected the contents. I still have no regrets.
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The castors are all hairy, but otherwise you’d never guess it’s not a new chair.
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It almost feels a bit too small, but having carefully examined the size chart before purchase I’m sure it’s the right size, just needs to be adjusted properly, and I’m still not fully across what all the levers do.
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I have already made two dents in my desk by swivelling with too much gay abandon. The chair is much sturdier than the desk. People with cardboard desks shouldn’t swivel chairs.
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Sitting properly is different to working in bed or on a clammy sofa or hunched over a kitchen island.
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Back on the sourdough train. Made some OK pizza, the steam from which set off the smoke alarm for a few seconds – I need to find some drier cheese, well it’s good to know the alarm works and didn’t appear to summon the fire brigade, and it’s sent me down productive rabbit hole of cleaning various ventilation thingies. Then I made some bread, which didn’t taste horrible and had a nice texture.
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Snow! There was some snow, slightly more than the minimum necessary to make the place look pretty, but nothing like as much as they had in other places. Had a circuitous squelch around in the Alaskan fisherman’s wellington boots, which must use some different muscles to walking in normal shoes because there was much stiffness the following day.
A taxi drove fast through a puddle of melted snow, splashing me bigtime – I tasted a bit of the salty spray. I shook my fist angrily, gloves and boots making it hard to extend a middle finger or give chase. I tweeted the taxi company in a friendly not-really-complaint, then immediately deleted the tweet because I’m a coward and stuff, and I’m not quite solipsistic to seriously think the chauffeur had done it deliberately, and I’m not even sure I’d correctly identified the company the taxi belonged to.
Have a nice week.