Still Monday Barely

Events caused me to forget that it is FUN MONDAY today. I spent all day with the Well repair people, so it was not really a fun time. Min reminded me that this was a FUN Monday - and that is when I realized what an idiot I had been for signing up. We are supposed to portray the place we like to relax. Well guess what! I never relax - hardly ever! (I bet that doesn't surprise you!)

At first I thought I would take a picture of my bed, because if I do have a peaceful moment it is that 2 1/2 minutes where I am rereading for the fifteenth time the same passage of "Murder at Dealey Plaza" as I fall into uncontrollable deep sleep. That did not really seem to be the best blog picture, and then I remembered I have this imaginary place where I was always going to sit with my tea and read books and pretend to be Truman Capote or Harper Lee. I have this big over stuffed chair that I claimed from the side of the road even though it BADLY needed re-upholstering. The seat was sat out of it and the stuffing hangs visibly through shreds in the fabric. I love this chair and it is so comfortable (especially after I added several pillows worth of stuffing to the seat. Of course the moment I began to reupholster it, our decorator savvy cat sat on the new fabric and slashed it to pieces and I got so frustrated that I did not bother to do any more work on the project but instead threw a huge scarf over it. This made my chair blue on top, green on the bottom and batik scarf on the parts of the chair that the scarf would cover. In short, it is an eyesore and for that reason my husband in a moment of sanity banished it to the basement three days ago.

So what is imaginary about this chair and its coziness? It might be the fact that I almost never got to sit in it, because I would always drop my stuff in it when I got home and it was always piled high with the detritus of several days of shopping and bringing home work. Here is where the chair used to be.



As you may deduce, this is not the chair of which I have been writing. It has rather been replaced by a different chair which is not comfortable in the same way, nor as colorful in its appearance.

After much searching, I managed to find a picture of the imaginary chair before it went into exile. Here it is in all its glory.




On two separate occasions I actually sat there by the window and read blissfully, happy to have achieved my fantasy. Nonetheless just knowing that I might have been able to do it again some time was (and still is) a thrill all its own! And after all, there is such a thing as coming out of exile - If it happens I imagine my chair like some Latin American patriot returning to the scene stronger and better and wiser in the ways of happiness and satisfaction.