My favorite place

So, I'm being lectured by another friend about my bohemian lifestyle.

"And you sleep on that... that whatever it is... in your dining room!"

I posted something last November about having moved my sleeping space into the dining room:

I've been sleeping on a futon in the dining room for more than a year now. I have a bedroom with a very nice queen-size bed, but it began to feel alien and unwelcoming to me. I didn't like being in there.

I still love my dining room futon. It's my favorite place in the house. I can lie down there and feel the weight removed from my legs and back. I can stretch my legs out as far as they'll go and feel the muscles move and extend. I let my Japanese flute music and Indian ragas play in the living room, sounding as if they're coming from some other dimension.

I can read a book, talk to a cat or drift off to a place where I'm half-awake, half-asleep, where dreams seem like reality and reality seems like a dream. I can be in a fuzzy, floating place of muted colors and gentle music where others will leave me in peace because they can't bear to separate themselves from their world of Drama! Passion! Action! Sound! Color! Excitement!

I can't imagine a beach in the most beautiful tropical paradise or the suite of a luxury hotel being any more pleasant to me than my futon in the dining room. Eventually, I hope, I'll be able to blog telepathically so I can stay there all the time.