I’m down in the furnace workshop again, forming a fragile alliance with this tall wooden barstool, through something I’m thinking of as yoga as I’m doing it, but now that I’m writing about it I realize is just stretching. I think the key is never to sit on it. I’ve just gone from a physically demanding job to a more officey job, helping fill orders for a small business, and instead of my body hurting less it just hurts the same amount but in new ways. And so, my workshop’s standing-height bench with round wood stool, already torturous to sit on for any amount of time, has become untenable. These are things I can’t possibly have thought about this much when I was younger.
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