Invincible Summer

I anthropomorphize things.  Back when I owned vehicles, they always had names (rest in peace Solid Gold!).  I felt genuinely bad for my old flip cell phone when it was replaced by my splashy iPhone.  I apologize to walls when I run into them.  And furniture too often becomes like family. Enter the blue armchair.  I've had it as long as I've lived in San Francisco.  I got it at Thrift Town on Mission street, so it wasn't fancy to start with.  It has become less fancy through wear and tear and chocolate stains.  When I first got it, the neighbor's cat found it and decided it would smell better with a shot of male cat spray.  Forty shots of Febreeze and several months of avoidance later, it thankfully went back to smelling like a chair.  It's a little saggy and the back cushion had to be replaced with pillows.  It looks like this: I've known for a while that it would someday be returned to the great thrift store in the sky (bless it, it's not actually co