"I would not like nights so bright you could not see the stars." -- Akira Kurosawa

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Atlanta
I grew up in a family of Southern storytellers. Back in 2004, I started Whole Bean to continue the tradition in a new medium. Over the years, I've written about families and friends, peculiar situations, extended road trips, recalcitrant home appliances, and many things for which I'm truly grateful. I hope you enjoy your time here.
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Something is wrong with my chair. Our suburban Federated facility is quite nice -- good access to major arteries, a respectable selection of restaurants, and three Starbucks locations within one mile. Nevertheless, my ergonomically designed desk chair has recently taken a turn for the worse.

I first noticed it several months ago, when I returned to my desk after a coffee stop and found (when I sat down) that the chair had descended several inches from the position it had held when I left it some three minutes before. Since that time, I have observed the chair's aberrant behavior on at least ten occasions. It has no predisposition as to time of day -- it has happened at 9:30 AM and at 5:30 PM, Mondays through Fridays, and even a few Saturdays.

But perhaps the root cause is deeper. A few nights ago, I was sitting at one of our admittedly dilapidated kitchen chairs catching up with my mail when the entire thing came crashing to pieces, leaving me sitting on my tailbone on the floor, the natural gas bill still in my hand. And this after I spent all last winter on Weight Watchers, eventually reaching my ideal body mass index of 22.9, where I still am, by the way. (I know what you were thinking.)

Not more than fifteen minutes ago, my desk chair again descended spotaneously. But you know something? I ain't worrying. We haven't lost power today, my feet are not sitting in water, and I plan to eat barbecue for dinner regardless. It's all good.