Grabbing a crochet hook and some yarn, I sat on my bed yesterday and started a ripple blanket. There was no noise from the monsters as they were tucked away in bed, the television was off, and Buster was snoring in the kitchen. It felt really good to be able to just close the door to our room, put a drink on my nightstand, and relax. Very rarely does it ever get that quiet in our house.
I remember a time when my bedroom was the place to be. Best friends would come over and we would have slumber parties. There was my orange phase that started in middle school and went into my freshman year of high school. Everything had to be orange and my reasoning was because when you ask someone what their favorite color is very few people say orange. The bedroom was where I did my homework, talked on the phone, read a book, and even painted my nails.
Now as an adult it seems like some of that is lost, spending most of my time now in the living room or doing late night projects in the kitchen or studio. Often I tell my children to clean their rooms wondering how they get messy so fast. The difference is they live in their rooms like I use too.