When the children were young and misbehaved they were sent to the green chair. It’s a nice chair as chairs go, roomy, upholstered in leather (or some leather-like substance) and situated beside a window. True, it does sit in a corner — but it faces out not in.

It’s been many years since the green chair was used for time-outs, though sometimes I sit in it myself when I really, really need to finish writing an article.

But lately, there’s a new green chair in town. It’s a small, quaint, upholstered in green velvet, and curiously enough, sits right across the room from the original. It’s a corner chair with tufted armrests and a funny pie-wedge shape that would be uncomfortable to sit in even if it was refurbished. It’s here because it belonged to my mother’s side of the family and has meaning.

When we finally got it in the house, I was puzzled about where to put it, but when I found this corner I knew it was supposed to be there all along. You can sit there and look at the other green chair. Or you can look out the window — not for long, of course, because your back would start to ache. But during that time you can ponder what strange creatures we humans are.

Sentimental furniture: can’t live with it, can’t live without it.