I am sitting in my armchair, in the room I call the TV room. This is different from being in the kitchen, or the family room, or my office. We bought this chair, this armchair, about five years ago, and had the cushion re-stuffed until it was nearly brick-like. I like a nice, hard pillow to sit on — don’t judge. My chair is dark brown and suedey, with a pale pattern of leaves and paisleys. I’ve been turning the cushion over, rotating back to front, and then sideways, but it’s beginning to list to the left. Pretty soon I’d like to have the cushion stuffed again.
In front of me is a small, six-drawer wooden cabinet. I use the second from the top drawer for my computer table. The little cabinet is stuffed with pens of every color and sticky notes; beads and other things to make bracelets and necklaces; and a writing magazine here and there. On top of the little cabinet, there are more magazines, books and notebooks. I go through magazines and cut out photographs I like, recipes, animals, and landscapes. I then tape the pictures to the right side of my journal pages, leaving the left side for writing. Right now, the little cabinet is in a bit of a disarray (I say that lightly. But, it’s really a bloody mess: There are also knitting needles on it, lip gloss, nail polish, two pairs of reading glasses). Here, on the left, I have a small LED reading lamp. To the left of this cabinet, there is a wooden TV tray table that is covered in yarn, knitting needles and other knitting supplies, including a yarn winder that is firmly attached to this table. It’s not going to be used for intended purpose — to eat a meal off of — anytime soon.
On my immediate left is a tall, dark-brown wooden side table. It’s pretty substantial, with four drawers. In the drawers I keep books, more pens and sticky notes and strange odds and ends I have no other place to put — things like a magnifying glass and lovely, a peacock-colored metal fidget spinner (remember that craze?), lipstick, a pair of earrings, Scotch tape and another pair of reading glasses. Ok, I might have an addiction to reading glasses. Admitting you have a problem is the first step.
There are at least three drinking glasses and one mug in the shape of a llama, filled with colored pencils and pens and one pair of knitting needles, books and notebooks on top of the table, plus a cordless phone and tall table lamp. There are more nail polish bottles, two candles, hand cream and a water spray bottle we use to train the dogs. It may appear chaotic, but it’s my chaos and I know exactly what I have and where. Not that it wouldn’t benefit from a bit of weeding, but right now it’s not a priority.
To my right is the glass sliding door to our deck. This also includes a doggie door insert, one of those you can remove with very little trouble. When it snows or rains, at night, I like to turn on the light out on the back deck, so I can look out the glass doors at the miracle of precipitation in this high desert we call Denver, Colorado.
My chair faces the TV, which is pretty huge. It’s not high definition, but it does have a connection to Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime and whatever else we have on our phones. It’s a sweet deal, I’m not going to lie, and watching shows on this big TV is one of my favorite activities.
Another one of my favorite things is to get the fire going in our wood-burning fireplace, or enjoy the fire my husband makes, and drink sweet hot tea while watching Masterpiece Mystery. It helps if it’s a blustery day outside, since we never start the fire unless it snows. There is a mantle over the fireplace, where we have family photos, a clock, some candles and knickknacks, and a vase with silk flowers a dear friend made just for us.
This is easily my favorite room in the house (I love my bed, and I like my kitchen, but…). I have an actual office upstairs with a little desk, but I much prefer to write here. This is my safe place, my happy place, and I know this room so well, I can navigate it with my eyes closed. It’s not a good idea, though, because dogs’ toys and bones are also scattered in this room, more than any other room, and stepping on them, or worse, mis- stepping on them and twisting my ankle is stupid painful.
How about you? Where are you right now, as you are reading this? What is surrounding you? Who is near you? I’m dropping another challenge to anyone who dares to read this all the way to the end, and look forward to hearing from you.