The Clearing of the Sunset Chair

(This is my latest English composition. That's what happens to weird minds when they get bored. It's obvious I had nothing else to do than to write for a while, but it just proves how something completely normal, like tidying up, can be turned into something even amusing, depending on how one looks at it.)

Yesterday I cleared the sunset chair. It was full of books that had been piled chaotically all summer long, but now, as the sun sets more to the south every day and it gets dark much earlier, they no longer belong there.

It was quite easy to relocate the more recent books, those at the top of the piles. It wasn’t much effort to shove the books on the shelves aside and stack the new ones in the gaps, defying the laws of Physics and Mechanics with this particular ability women have of putting things where they don’t fit.

It was harder to find a place for the books and things at the bottom, though, because the fact that they were at the bottom meant that it was a long time since they had entered my crammed dominion without a suitable storing place being found for them. However, after long moments of deep reflection and having defied other laws as well as those mentioned above, I succeeded in getting provisionally rid of the unwanted objects by dumping them in inconvenient places, where they are sure to be a bother as time goes by.

Finally, all these different procedures brought me to my goal; namely, to find the chair. I must say it was also rather gratifying to realize that the old blanket I had used as a throw hadn’t been compressed into non-existance by the gigantic mass of cellulose on top of it.

There was still a little bit of sunset left over in the sky for my enjoyment, and I was grateful to watch it while I sipped my cold tea and felt the icy wind come in through the cracks of the windows. It’s obvious that a free chair facing south-west is all one needs to be happy; and if it has on it a battered throw that has forgotten what it is, all the better.