I have a lovely green chair in my living room. It's The Sick Chair. It's arms are high (nearly to my shoulders) and close, well padded. It's a soft, sueded microfiber. A comfortable, secure chair.
Sitting in my chair, I can hear my children in their rooms if their doors are open. I can hear Goof Ball even when his is closed, since there's an opening in his wall. He talks in his sleep, you know.
It's not always the most convenient chair. I can't, for instance, do handwork (e.g., smocking) in the chair. The embracing arms leave little room for elbows to dance with a needle and floss.
However, on nights like tonight, when I have bronchitis and my cough won't allow me to lie prone, the chair is my best friend. It beckons, swallowing me, allowing me to sleep upright without listing too far to either side.
I know, I know. That's not a photo of the chair. It's Oatmeal Head, Goof Ball and OH's girlfriend, Owlie (we love her). I thought it would be nice to mention that Oatmeal Head turned 17 yesterday. I have two 17 year olds in the house for the next 17 days. Poor kid had a birthday while I was sick. He had a great day, I hope, regardless.
Happy May and happy spring, y'all.
Until I write again ...