Not the Hill…But It’s Up There: Stools

My last post was about love, so naturally, this next one has to be about hate. I don’t make the rules. I mean, I do - it is my blog - but…look, it’s all about balance, ok?

Welcome to the first installment of Not the Hill...But It’s Up There, a series dedicated to discerning, dissecting, and demolishing the things that irritate, instigate, and infuriate me. These subjects don’t inspire enough rage to make them the hill I would die on…but they’re up there.

I've dedicated the first post in this series to stools. This seating option may technically provide the greatest height, but it falls short in so many other ways that I cannot help but hold it in extremely low regard. In fact, if I had to choose from a lineup of all available seating options, stools would fall just below bean bags and just above bike seats. Yeah, I’m not fucking around here.

Let’s start from a structural perspective. I’ve never encountered a stool that was 100% structurally sound. And before you come at me and say, “What about the stools that are bolted to the ground??” let me stop you right there. If a chair has to be attached to the floor - and we’re not actively in a storm surge, tornado, etc. - I lose all respect for it.* I want to move around comfortably, not feel like sedentary prisoner placated with, at most, a half-hearted swivel feature.

Unfortunately, free-range stools offer no relief either. 9 times out of 10, these stools are too mobile: wobbling, shifting, squeaking and creaking with each adjustment - and there are many because you are trying (and failing) to get comfortable. Did someone put on Bambi? Because it feels like I’m a goddamn newborn faun struggling to find my balance while sitting. Read that back. Struggling to find my balance while sitting. Sound insane? Well, that’s because it is. Stools suck. 

Moving right along - or rather right on up - let’s talk about height. There’s really only one scenario where I should be at an elevated height while sitting...and that's on a plane...in the sky. Furthermore, what is the appeal of scaling a seat when, as a woman, so much of life already feels like an uphill battle?**

“This seating option may technically provide the greatest height, but it falls short in so many other ways that I cannot help but hold it in extremely low regard. In fact, if I had to choose from a lineup of all available seating options, stools would fall just below bean bags and just above bike seats.”

And once I’m up there - then what? I’m restricted to the miniscule area of my stool seat, which I must share with my jacket, bag, napkin, and whatever other shit I've decided I need to make my way through the world? If I’m marginally lucky, the stool has a back, which I can adopt as my coatrack. If I’m extremely lucky, there’s also a bag hook, a feature so elusive and inconsistent that I’ve lumped it in with other unreliable things like Ralph’s avocados and student loan forgiveness.

After tetris-ing my belongings, I’m then challenged with the task of keeping all this shit together. And my track record is not good - I can replay all the times I’ve seen my napkin cascade to the ground below, surrendering itself to the floor due to one poor movement choice. It’s a haunting montage, driving away sleep and causing many a restless night.*** I can either awkwardly disembark from my perch and retrieve the napkin, as I often do, or relinquish it to the abyss, spurred on by delusional optimism that I can rise to the occasion and not spill. Either way, the stool has once again drastically diminished my overall experience.

My most compelling argument for my hatred of stools stems from the fact that they operate so much better as props. My evidence? A certifiably hilarious 2019 bit from comedian Tig Notaro on Conan O’Brien’s talk show that has been burned in my brain ever since my first watch.

One more thought before I go: if my brusque tone rubs people the wrong way and results in rescinded invitations, that’s ok. I mean, if you can’t appreciate (or at least tolerate) an inconsequential, playfully impassioned tirade, I probably don’t want to be at whatever event you’re hosting anyway.

TL;DR: I’d love to have a seat at your table…I’d also love for it not to be a stool.

Until next time,

Meredith

FOOTNOTES

*Granted, I generally don’t view seating options with a great deal of respect to begin with.

**This is, admittedly, overly dramatic…but also true.

***This is, admittedly, overly dramatic and not true. So many other anxieties drive away my sleep!