One of my favorite feelings is what ensues whenever I wrap myself up in towels – one for my hair and a big one for my body – after a warm shower in a cool room, and I collapse sideways onto the bed.
After a while spent snuggling in my towel in the bed, the towel in my hair comes apart, my hair falling, flowing, rolling out of it onto the bed in spurts as I roll onto my back.
And I just rest there for a while, in a place of bliss, nowhere to go and nothing to do but dry slowly from the shower and relax.
And that’s what I do.
It’s kind of ironically delightful at times, when things get all twisted out of the ordinary way.
My aunt and I, both of whom dislike shopping, found ourselves out shopping together for quite a while this afternoon, during my visit that was designed for us to hang out and relax together.
And yet, we enjoyed ourselves today, despite the fact that we got home exhausted in the early evening… it was nice doing something like shopping with a co-conspirator of the non-shopping sort. 😛
Besides, when we got home so tired and so hungry as we were, I commented that I didn’t really feel like making any food, and that I really just wanted some biscuits and gravy…, and my aunt definitely agreed, so my uncle made us a super duper breakfast for dinner. 🙂
What is it about sofas that makes them such a comfort? I mean this question in a specific sense, though I am not actually looking for any specific answer. Many a time, growing up, I found myself frightened in my bedroom, and so went down/out to the sofa in the living room to attempt to fall back asleep (usually passing out somewhat promptly each time). Even nowadays, there is still something so comforting about the sofa, I regularly have a sort of desire to snuggle down and fall asleep on it, instead of getting up and going into my bedroom to fall asleep.
Perhaps is it the residual psychological and emotional link between the sofa and getting to watch cartoons and movies, and being snuggled by the dogs or my siblings or parent, and late-night movies when we didn’t have to get up early the next day, and enjoying summer vacation. Perhaps it is the foot rubs my dad and I would exchange as we watched tv together in the evenings. Perhaps it is because we always seemed to have amazing blankets to use on the couch. Perhaps it is none of the aforementioned, and perhaps it is all of it, and perhaps even more still. I don’t know what it is that makes sofas such a comforting, cozy, happy place for me. But there is something about them, I just love hanging on the sofa, which is why I am now writing about it, as I lounge on my own sofa bed and notice my feelings of not wanting to get up and go get in my own real bed to go to sleep (although I am actually quite tired). 🙂