Stasis. It's what we hope for when contemplating the proximity of our navel to the edge of the table. Never the twain shall meet! (Lest the table turns and the navel battles on.)
But beware the "creep" effect. It is insidious. A snake in the grass. (Maybe even the coupe de grace.) The creep effect has great potential to impact on our lives.
Here's how it happens.
Great meal; good company, fantastic wine, all having their desired effect. Sublimation of guilt. A sublime dine!
That is, until you get the urge to pee. So far there's no cause for alarm.
Unfussed (though slightly pissed) you choose the correct moment, make the right remarks and leave to relieve. Everything seems fine...
But, when you return, the dimensions of your world are subtly changed. Not that you realise this, of course. No! First, certain events must manifest themselves, etching an unerasable paragraph in your memoirs.
As you attempt to slip harmoniously back into place, the table jerks uncharacteristically. Wineglasses jar, jostle and jog, mercilessly dousing unsuspecting compatriots, staining even abstainers. Plates slide unceremoniously onto trapped laps. The ice bucket unfreezes and, lacking an extra leg, momentarily upstages the tower of Piza before launching its contents, compelling innocent patrons to become involved in your life.
And you...? You perform a Bacchanalian pas de deux, lateral lurch and stunning faux pas as you plunge impolitely into the lap of your client's wife, Grace.
Not that anyone else has time to notice. They are far too busy performing their parts in this ad lib scenario, ducking, diving and being drenched in what was once a devine repast. (Not to be pastagain).
And your thoughts during this dance of dissonance? As you sail past her best attributes and sink into her lovely lap you're wondering, "Why here?"
The answer is clear. Some "creep" moved your chair closer to the table!
But there's no cause for concern, really. (You have just fallen into Grace.)