Sunday 26 February 2006

Pic of the day: I just now noticed how the chairs in my living room are arranged so that no one is exactly opposite another. I'm pretty sure I haven't moved them that much, so they were probably arranged that way by either the widow or the her divorced son who borrowed the house for a couple months.

Facing empty chairs

I just recently read in an online column (in Wired) that when you go out in Europe or the USA, restaurants and such have no table that don't have chairs facing each other, and the minimum size of a table is two. So if you are single and go out, you always sit facing the ghost of the one who should have been with you. He found this vastly inferior to the Japanese table arrangement. From what he wrote, it seems many eateries have tables where you sit as part of an anonymous group. It does not matter whether you go out alone because you are single or just taking a break from a late job. You are not forced to face anyone, not even an empty seat.

I haven't thought about that. I rarely eat out, but mostly because the price is way too high, there is way too much food (and, these days, way too much fat in most of it), and it takes way too long time just waiting. At most I will buy a burger now and then, but not every fortnight. And yes, I have noticed the empty chair in front of me, but not thought of it in any other way than the fact that it is more convenient to be able to use the same table for one or two people without changing anything. Being a practical guy myself, I would have done the exact same thing.

***

But here in the house I rent, I sometimes notice the emptiness. Not often, but sometimes it just pops up. Not in the home office. It is just like the Chaos Node: Crowded, filled with computers and peripherals, and shelves filled with my favorite books, and a few crates. It is not a home, it is a Chaos Node. But in the kitchen and in the living room...

Don't get me wrong, I love to have all this space and to have a couple rooms that don't look like a cross between a computer lab and a storage shed. But people don't usually live alone in rooms like this. And if they do, they are certainly not me. There is this vague feeling that the people who really should be here will return really soon now, that I am just a guest waiting for them.

So I'm not listening for the rustling of little capes or anything. I guess I've just grown up and lived in a society in which I have not seen anyone else living like this. There must be some, although I would guess most of the eternal bachelors buy an apartment rather than rent a house. Well, those who don't live with a cat or dog on the small farm where they grew up. (I guess I might have liked that, but it's not an option.) Perhaps I too should buy an apartment in a prison-like concrete colossus, but I really detest the idea. I am far too rural a person to do that if I can avoid it. For now, I can. And who knows, maybe I will get used to the empty chairs before I leave...