Fuzzy robe, fuzzy slippers, lazy days
I am in my favorite fuzzy robe with a hood. I am in my favorite recliner. My blankie, which should have been thrown out years ago, is near at hand.
I sound like my three-year-old granddaughter. No wonder we understand each other.
My cell phone is tethered to the laptop so it doesn’t fall into the cushions. I’ve learned to do this tether, or pay the consequences of searches under the furniture, struggling up from my knees, tilting furniture, and waiting for the lost phone to ring.
My cup of coffee is located on the almost-side-table arm.
On good days, I won’t change out of my robe all day long. Those days are rare.
I traveled with my son and his family over the holidays. Up by 7 a.m. Out of the house by 8:30 a.m., toddler in tow. National parks, play parks, shopping, baking, cooking, holiday lights, Santa visit — we did it all. I was exhausted. Thank goodness the toddler still takes a nap, so I could take one, too.
I loved it, don’t get me wrong.
But a good book, something warm to sip, a laptop, a bowl of soup for lunch; Ah that is a good life.
I feed the birds and watch them through the window from my recliner.
I love my slippers, my moccasin-style slippers, lined with faux fur.
Truth be told, now that I’m retired, I don’t mind winter and gray skies much. I read. I write. I stretch.
I decided to have a monthly massage, as a personal gift. It’s skin-to-skin contact. It’s best with warmed CBD oil. For fifty minutes, I get slathered in oil, feel the aches and pains melt away, float on a cloud of comfort.
There is a drawback, of course. I have to get dressed and leave the house.