LightHusband just came to me, as I perched upon my sofa and asked, “Would it be too much to consider cleaning this space up sometime?”  I struggled to contain the laughter and said, “Well, of course it would be … where else would I put my stuff?”

Now “my” sofa is a green micro-fiber suede sofa with a chaise end.  I sit on the chaise part.  The rest of it is covered in books and papers, with the odd, empty popcorn bowl.  Upon one short stack of books, is a pile of unused paper that is a resting place for my coffee.  In front of the sofa is an old coffee table.  Upon the coffee table are more books and papers, a stack of candle holders, and my laptop case perched precariously on one end.  Underneath the coffeetable … more books.  And Rosetta Stone Arabic.  Because one day soon I really am going to start that.  Really.  I am.

LightHusband went on.  By now we were both laughing.  “You know what you need?”  “A bookshelf?” I replied.  That’s the standard answer in our house.  “No,” says he.  “You need an Uncle Paul room.  A room with a recliner in the middle surrounded by bookshelves with a light next to it.”  “Hah,” says me “I really do need a bookshelf.”  He ignored me and went on, “I can see you just like Uncle Paul, sitting there with all your books in your recliner … come to think of it, Opie was like that too.  Oh!  NO!  You’ve got it from both sides!!!”

So there it is friends.  My destiny, given to me by blood … a recliner surrounded by books.  I can only hope that someone will stop by with coffee and water occasionally.