When the pandemic set in听a year ago, there was no shortage of articles telling us听which gear we needed听to work comfortably from home. Scrolling my Twitter feed, it often听felt like every online publisher (including 国产吃瓜黑料)听had听weighed听in on the best home-office products: standing desks, fancy stools, mousepads, extra monitors. I smugly ignored all of these stories. Pre-pandemic, I worked from home three days a week and had no extraordinary aches and pains. My setup was sparse鈥擨 usually edited听from my kitchen table, seated in an Ikea dining chair, with my laptop elevated on a stand鈥攂ut I had no complaints. The people who needed these product recommendations were somehow different from me, I was sure. Maybe they鈥檇 gotten soft from all those days relying on comfy, ergonomic office chairs while I鈥檇 been unknowingly training for our work-from-home apocalypse. But several months into the pandemic, the aches and pains arrived.
I must have been demonstrating听terrible听posture at my computer听before I actually started complaining about my back and shoulder pain.听I only know this because very soon after the aches arrived, my boyfriend received听a stream of packages at our apartment that were full of work-from-home gear. I hadn鈥檛 asked for any of this, but he had ordered it听all for me. (Some gestures can be thoughtful and vaguely insulting at the same time. I cringe thinking about how hunched over my laptop I must have appeared to have prompted the unsolicited gifts.) There was a back cushion, a seat cushion, and a pillowy footstool, all from different companies. Out of desperation (and an attempt to be grateful), I outfitted my Ikea dining chair and got back to work.
I soon realized that I鈥檇 tried to implement too many changes too soon. On day one of my new setup, I felt restricted and uncomfortable at my workstation, but I couldn鈥檛 pinpoint which item was to blame.听Over several weeks, I tested out different arrangements to see what felt best: I reintroduced the items in different combinations and tried to take note of any changes to my overall achiness.
Eventually, I settled on the winner: the 听($79) from Purple, a brand mostly known for its mattresses. The 鈥渃ushion鈥澨齣s made from a grid of firm, rubbery鈥攁nd yes, purple鈥攇el webbing听and features a zip-on cover with a no-slip grip on the bottom. Unlike a regular cushion, the material is supportive and pleasantly solid. (You don鈥檛 sink into it.) It successfully upgrades my rock-hard dining chair to at least the level of those comfy office chairs. At the end of a long workday, I no longer feel desperate to book a deep-tissue massage.听It鈥檚 a bit pricey听but still much cheaper than a high-quality听ergonomic听chair.
I鈥檝e mostly ditched the other add-ons, and I have to admit that I still have work to do to perfect my setup. (For starters, my large monitor has been gathering dust at my office for a whole year while I work from my laptop each day.)听But I still can鈥檛 quite stomach the idea of putting a full-blown ergonomic office chair in my kitchen鈥攊t feels so final, like I can no longer pretend that we鈥檒l be back to our normal office lives soon enough. Until I get over my denial, this seat cushion is an excellent stopgap.