Shore-gonomics

The chair owned by Levi F Ward, of Piermont NY circa 1850
Very hard to sit in for more than an hour

  Rio Beach Chair from Manasquan CVS circa 2011
Shore-gonomically correct

A while back I wrote a post about my antique chair that belonged to a man who lived back in the 1850s in Piermont, New York. I know he was the first secretary of the Wawayanda Lodge, had a wife and several children, a stove business and a sore butt. I deduced  the butt part because I was spending long hours in his chair at my desk and I suffered the same. It all looked very Hawthornesque, which would be fine if I were writing in my best hand by the light of a whale oil lamp. The fact is I am typing, with three fingers, in my lap. Two index fingers for the letters and the little right one for the backspace key. The desk is only for putting the laptop down so I can stand up and get off my aching posterior.

I decided I needed to find an ergonomic chair. I did not want one of those black things that they sell at Office Max. They remind me too much of an office cube. I thought about where I can sit for the longest without needing to get up. Then I realized it was a beach chair. A bright and colorful beach chair. Even if I sat in the yard I would remain for hours without getting up except for retrieving a beer. Would it work in my office? Why not? No one can see me anyway behind the over grown bush. So that was my revelation. Along with the chair I added some guy stuff to make me feel briny. Some wooden crates, some vintage fishing tackle, old Atlantic City fudge and taffy containers and an old amber bottle that contained medicine for curing sore butts in the 19th century. The results are increased productivity, more creativity, and comments from my wife about the pile of junk in my office. It not junk its shore-gonomically correct office furnishings.

There is a marketing side to this too. On my new blog, which is coming soon, called Freelance After Fifty, I can tell people that I make money sitting in my beach chair. I don't have to tell them that my only view is an overgrown bush and a hummingbird feeder. The important thing is I am comfortable and my writing reflects it, when I am not daydreaming about being on the beach with my fishing pole.
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