We’ve all heard it said that home is where the heart is. However, I think when I return home after being away, the best part is getting into my crisp covers and surrounding myself with my favorite pillows in my very own bed. Not being as considerate of our animals on this, in the course of two days, I have single-handedly disrupted our entire pet population at our house. Poor Abby, the overly sensitive (translated, spoiled) springer spaniel, had her sofa stolen from her peaceful sunroom and placed in my office. She no longer can sleep on it due to its proximity to our bedroom and because of her unfortunate little snoring issue. She snores blissfully as I write this, on my bed, a whole room away, no doubt making up for lost z’s from the last two nights. We did take her favorite blanket and cover her dog pillow which she has never used, and set her up in the same place in the sunroom. She reluctantly stayed there, but somehow I have a feeling she hasn’t felt very restful.
Then, I finally did it. I am cleaning out my closet today like the experts tell you: take EVERYTHING out of it and only put back in things you wear, things that fit, and things that don’t need alteration or repair. Oh, and all the tax records from the 90s forward, all my shoes, purses, earrings, necklaces, undergarments, swimsuits, extra jackets, and workout wear. I never heard an expert say that, but I do have a shelf above a shelf in my closet appropriately appointed for tax records and my luggage. It all comes out, but it also includes displacing poor little Buster, the Closet Kitty, from his restful daytime slumbering place. He, too, has found a quiet, dark spot under my bed, but keeps trying to go back to the closet where the chaos is in full action. Before the day is over, one of them is probably going to get mad enough that we might have a torn shoe or a wet spot in the corner. Neither is very happy with me at this moment. Home is definitely where the bed is.