In my bedroom I have this extremely comfortable sitting chair. Unfortunately it has a voracious appetite for my personal belongs. This morning I barely rescued my favorite black tee from its clutches. I know that I placed it across its back last night, but by this morning only the tip of a sleeve was visible between its cracks.
It is time to dive into its bowels again. Previous probings have produced several pairs of lost glasses and copious amounts of coinage. Still, putting my hand into the unknown lurking in those crevasses gives me pause.
Nevertheless, this morning’s tee rescue takes the ongoing belonging battle to a new level. Comfortable or not, that chair is going down, if only because I loathe clothes shopping. It is a despicable activity that only produces disappointment and frustration.
So if I must, I will delve into the dark places of my comfort zone. Because when faced with the possibility of having a run in with disappointment and frustration, I would rather step up and commence battle with the poaching piece of upholstery that is absconding with my peace of mind.