Lawn Chairs

   I generally enjoy summer. The warmer weather, the rainstorms, the swimming. But there is one thing I hate about summer. Something that has plagued me since my youth. Something that has physically scarred me for life. In fact, you probably own several of these awful things yourself. What is this monster, you may ask? I'll tell you. A seemingly innocent lawn chair.
   What's so bad about a lawn chair? Everything. From the weird, scratchy material they're made from, to the poorly made metal frame that barely and rarely stays together. I have a solid distrust of lawn chairs, starting from when I was about 7 or 8.
   It was during the summer sometime, and a rainstorm was coming in with high wind advisories. We all hurried outside to clean up the yard so our things wouldn't blow away. I was to fold up the lawn chairs and put them on the back porch. No problem, I had this.
   These were large, cumbersome, chairs that I had difficulty folding by myself. I was determined to do it, though, so I started on the first one. It wasn't so bad and I hauled it to the porch. I went to get the second one, but it was apparently stuck and wouldn't fold shut. I tried again and with a lot of effort, I finally shut it. Shut it right on my pinky finger, that is. I jerked it free, my eyes filling with tears. I couldn't bring myself to look at it, so I just tried to calm myself down.
   After a moment of trying not to cry, I brought my finger up to where I could see it. Immediately, I realized I didn't need to try and tough this out, for I was actually hurt. My left pinky nail was broken right in half, and shattered around it. It tore the skin at the bottom of my nail almost a half an inch down. I still have the scar from it.
   To be frank, I don't really remember what happened after that. What happened to the lawn chair, or what even happened to me. Mom fixed me up and I survived. The scar on my pinky isn't the only scar I have from a lawn chair incident.
   We were at a neighborhood picnic, and it was late. The campfire, which was previously surrounded by a ton of people, was now only occupied by a few people, most of which I knew. I sat down in a random lawn chair, tired from the long day. I sat and relaxed for about five minutes until I went to adjust myself in the chair. I have no idea how the chair broke, but somehow it managed to give up on me in the most inconvenient fashion.
   As my butt departed from the seat, I managed to do a barrel roll across the grass, narrowly missing the fire. The frame managed to scrap across the side of my rib cage and that's how I received my scar. Plus, it was rather embarrassing, you could say. Considering I'm about as graceful as a fawn in heels, it was probably quite the sight to see.
   While I have plenty of other awful stories I could tell you about my pitiful lawn chair experiences, I leave you with these. This is a warning to you, in a way. Watch out for the hidden evils of the world.  Sure, Obamacare is devastating, but the little things, like lawn chairs and Styrofoam plates, is going to be what takes us out.