Morning Ascent

Target: the dining chair summit. Hooked my arms over the lowest wooden rung and heaved. Stubby legs kicked empty air. *Clack-clack.* Solid grip. Scrambled up onto the seat, but the real summit was higher. A cotton dish towel hung draped over the backrest. Perfect rope. I grabbed the fringed hem and hauled upward. *Zzzzt.* The towel slid three inches down the slick varnish. Didn't drop. Just dangled there, swaying like a clock pendulum. Dry pause. *Ch-clack.* Cheerful view from up here. Kicked off a spindle, swung forward, and flopped belly-first onto the top rail. Summit claimed.