My Place

Should I describe my place I would say, Better Homes and Gar-

dens stay away. This place has no photogenic appeal. It is really

too small to entertain, so it is rare that anyone but the dogs and

me are ever there.

I have a liberal coating of dust on the furnishings, and a carpet

of Chihuahua hair wall-to-wall. I’ve got hardcover books of size

and weight, volumes I’ve either already read or ones not even

worth a second glance.

Those are strategically placed on the carpet over frazzled pile which

the other dog decided to excavate with flailing paw and gnawing jaw.

There’s a lopsided, threadbare recliner where I often sit, drinking my

morning coffee while writing a line or two each day.

Occasionally, I’ll watch a hometown game on TV when a particular

sport is in season. There are always two cans of tuna in the kitchen

cabinet, and a half-jar of mayo in the fridge. And I’ve got a reserve

loaf of sandwich bread in the freezer.

Should I run out of things to eat, tuna salad is always an option over

abject hunger and starvation. That just about adequately portrays

my living situation. I wouldn’t go so far as to say my place is a

complete and unruly mess.

More accurately, I would say it is self-contained, a hands-free

operation of sorts, with no moving parts to get in the way. And

that generally includes me. Should I one day decide to step up

and fancily upgrade my living space,

I’ll certainly consider buying an issue of Better Homes and Garden

Magazine. I’ll sit worry-free in my cock-eyed recliner, take a nap

with the dogs and dream.

Chris Hanch  9-24-15