Quest for the Comfy Chair

Confession: I really do think I'm smarter than almost everyone around me; not better, just smarter. I don't know whether that makes me an arrogant SOB, and that worries me.

Reading

• On Writing, by Stephen King

Writing

• "Illuminated"

With no television tonight, I started thinking on the way home from work about how I would fill my evening. More On Writing, for one thing, and perhaps a bit of writing myself. But first things first, I have to clean up this pigsty of an apartment.

You don't want the details, and I don't want to type them. It got me thinking, however, of what my idea writing space would be. I'd have a recliner and a lamp, first of all, with a little table beside the chair. That would be my reading area. A few feet away I'd have my desk, with a comfortable office-style chair poised in front of it. There would be two computer screens, one for research, and one for composition. There might be music, or there might not, depending on my mood. The shades would be closed, the light bright but not harsh. If I'm getting very particular, the room would be wood paneled, and furnished in deep burgundy, dark green, and navy blue.

The shame of it is, I already have so much of that. My recliner is so close to the wall it won't recline, and it currently covered with four books, an audiobook that needs to go back to the library, a pillow, and afghan, a stuffed horse wearing Mardi Gras beads (don't ask) and a Chinese menu. The little table is in the living room behind my bike, the lamp shoved behind the sofa.

The computer is much as I described, albeit with a less comfy chair desk chair, made a bit more palatable by Bed, Bath, and Beyond's least expensive cushion. The shades are closed.

What detracts is the clutter. I'm not slovenly, just all too likely to let an article of clothing lay where it falls, next to letters, bills, and mementos of bygone eras, scattered on the floor like leaves. This cannot stand! I shouldn't have to tiptoe like Shaggy sneaking up on the 10,000 Volt Ghost just to make it to the bathroom.

So that ends tonight, or at least begins to end. I'm even going to do some rearranging so that I can actually use that recliner as God intended, although I can't for the life of me figure out how exactly. And when I'm done, I'm getting a comfy-ass office chair, dammit.