When all the pieces fit just right

Some days I just wake up with a sense of peace that folds over me like a nice home-made quilt It is those days when you wake up and the coffee taste extra special, you open the kitchen window and the breeze is cool, not too cold. You turn on the radio and every song is a good one. The mail gets checked and not a bill in the bunch and the mailman is the one who brings your dog milk bones. When the phone rings it is calls from good friends with only pleasant news. No bombs fall on you. The man next door is back on the wagon, so you don't have to listen to the abusive screams resonating through the thin walls. When you are greasing the frying pan to make some over easy eggs, instead of grumbling, you are humming a tune. These are days I cherish.

Lazy boy

Why do men feel the need to own the remote and the recliner? Is it genetic? My father had a chair. He was a rather large man, and the arms on that lazy-boy were definitely broken. I remember him sitting there, with his remote in hand, delivering his latest lecture on life. I think it goes back to the time of Kings. The Throne. No, I am not speaking about the toilet. Every man wants to be king of his castle. Prince of his palace. All my husband needs is a crown and he is there. I guess my son is the court jester. Turns out in my quest to understand man and his need for a chair and remote, I spoke to many other woman and men. I am onto something here, yes indeed. Yup, I have a chair in front of my computer. It is no throne. Just a chair. Nothing special. My man? Oh yes, he sits on a throne. All is well in my castle until the king loses his remote. A cry emits from the man's chest similar to a war whoop! The troops are called in, (me) to make sure there are no insurgents (my son) sneaking around. So me being the wise queen tell the king he should rise from his throne and look under his buttocks. Aha, mystery solved once again.