I wanted to snuggle with the cat tonight. Instead, he is running back and forth through the rooms, playing with the curtains, and I might have to put him in the other room, so he doesn’t destroy the curtains once I fall asleep… oh, well… I guess it’s meant to be.
Or something like that, anyway…
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). 🙂
Some days, I just want to snuggle up and cuddle with someone, all nice and snug, and fall asleep being held.