The Sheryl Crow song referenced above was meant, I think, to celebrate the somewhat misdirected exuberance of lost youth. But it represents the mature mindset more accurately, and has become an annoying earworm.

When relocating to upstate New York, I made the mistake of buying a very comfortable rocking, recliner, henceforth known as The Chair. The error was compounded by placing The Chair in front of the wall of windows facing north. The situation was further aggravated by sitting in it.

My daily routine is early awake, bathroom duty (yes, “Duty”), small breakfast, and a small allotment of time for news of the world. Unfortunately, I receive that news from The Chair and the small allotment of time is getting bigger each day.

It wasn’t noticeable at first, the reclining just got longer and longer until one day it was time for lunch. Kidding. Any senior reading this knows urinary insecurity ruins everything and would end reclining time at some shorter, inopportune moment, but you get the point: it is a daily struggle to avoid the peacefulness, the comfort, the security, the heaven that is The Chair. And it calls my name all day, the siren call of a Naugahyde beast, though it might be real leather.

My lawyer daughter says the manufacturer can’t be sued for manufacturing such an addictive product, right after she refused an intervention to end the spiral of laziness.

When my 84 year-old mom went into the hospital for what she feared would be the end of her life, she prophetically, if enigmatically, warned me about this very thing. She was tired of being bombarded by tests and treatments no 84 year-old should have to endure when she said: “All I want to do is go home and sit in my chair one last time.”

Now, eight years later, I get it.

The addition to the morning routine, now, is the struggle to get out of The Chair and go have some fun. Do something. Pickelball. Swimming. Walking. Talk to people instead of watching them through the window. Enjoy the world.

So I make the effort every day to move from horizontal to vertical, wondering with each passing day: why bother when there is a heavenly, rocking alternative?

As the song says: “I have a feeling I am not the only one.”