A person's home is their castle? Hah! Around here the pets rule.
Every step I take in my so-called castle is observed by one or more sets of eyes. Even a trip to the bathroom is supervised as one after the other of my five dictators comes into the room, looks at me thoughtfully, and leaves. My time in the shower is a spectator event, with one cat perched on the toilet lid, another on the bathmat and the third sitting on the sink, while the two dogs make patrols through the house and appear occasionally in the bathroom door to let me know that all is secure.
This weekend I took it easy, trying to coax the unhappy muscles in my back to unkink. I sat down to catch up on the back log of DVR recordings. I had a little bit of trouble seeing the picture.
Getting ready to leave for work is always a challenge. Last week I went to the closet to get a pair of hose out of one of the lingerie bins and ran into a cat who informed me that sandals are still appropriate wear for mid-November.
After dislodging her from her comfortable spot in my hosiery bin, I returned to the bedroom to find that Coco was lying across the outfit I had waiting on the bed.
On those days that I work from home, at least I don't have to wrestle for the clothes to put on my back. I just have to wriggle into the available space in my desk chair.
And the idea I had for putting a comfortable seat in the office for my use to curl up and read? I have yet to find it unoccupied.
After a long day of constantly trying and failing to live up to the expectations of the folks in charge around here, I head to bed and it's a whole 'nother battle to find a place for my weary head.
My home is a castle. I fulfill the roles of chef, laundry maid, jester and general serf. I live to serve.