My mother promises me that it wasn’t the chairs fault, that she’d been using directors chairs in that garden for years now, that she weighed double what I did and had never had any trouble with them. It must have not been opened far enough or hadn’t locked into place, or maybe I had sat on the edge of the seat cover, that’s what she said. I wont hear any of it. Never, ever again will I use directors chairs. My backside is bruised and my tailbone aches too much to consider the possibility. I mean, I felt straight onto the concrete. The nephews had all laughed and my white skirt was probably ruined. I’d never forget it. Who would sit in one of those ever again?
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