There seems to be a theme running here.
They slip me into some sort of support device then strap me in. Barely three months old and with a spine that’s about as solid as week-old noodles in a soggy paper bag, they slip me into this plastiform molded chair and expect me to be ecstatic at the opportunity to mold my skeletal structure to an implement that seems more built for torture than for comfort. I guess I brought this on … I had this weird notion that I could see things better if I sat up than if laid flat on my back. I must admit I kinda like this “sitting up” position better… had I known it would entail this form of therapeutic punishment I might have spent a few more months admiring the finely detailed workmanship on the ubiquitous parquet flooring.