Most of us here admit to reading for pleasure. We bought our readers so we could spend many pleasurable hours enjoying our favorite authors. Many of us have a special place in our homes that is dedicated to this pastime. Ever since I got back from the west with my Sony Reader, I have catted around this apartment, first on the computer room sofa, next on the living room sofa, then the bed, finally at the mahjongg table in the sunroom. I would probably read in a tub of broken glass if that is all I had, but yesterday I found my special place. Here is my story.
I had just finished my mid-afternoon massage. I have this tiny woman that climbs onto the massage table with me and goes to work with knees and elbows. When she slows down you can almost see her wings. She causes me great pain, but I always leave there with a profound quality-of-life buzz.
I was drifting toward home like a small dirigible, trying to stay in the shady spots when I saw a man sitting in a bentwood rocker. He was being smoked by a cigarette and looked perfectly relaxed. The shop was one I had visited before -- sort of a combination chair store and mahjongg parlor.
I called my personal purchasing agent. She showed up in about five minutes and went to work negotiating for the chair. She saves me a lot of money, usually stopping just short of making the shop owner cry. But when you are living on a fixed income in a third world economy, what can you do? She finally settled on a price just shy of US$30.
The shop lady drove me and my new chair home in her little diesel pickup. I carried it up the stairs and installed it in it's new home in the sun room. I shucked my hat and shoes, picked up my Reader and sat. I promptly fell asleep.
It is the perfect place to have morning coffee and my favorite read. What is your story?