Shallowness is natural; conceit comes with education.

"Will you walk into my parlor?" said the spider to the fly


It occurs to me that people here willingly share snapshots of their lives, whilst I generally refrain from doing so. But tonight I am sitting here in my sanctuary - my reading nook in my bedroom - and the scene is so indicative of my true nature, while retaining sufficient pseudonymity, that I feel comfortably desirous of sharing this moment. I am watching tonight's episode of Sherlock, but I made quite certain my screen showed no spoilers. You're welcome.

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My sanctuary:

  • My cat (mon meilleur ami, mein bester Freund)
  • My elegant wingback chair and footstool (Queen Anne's legs)
  • My laptop, formerly named Selene. Many, many issues later, it now answers to Judas
  • A lovely lap quilt, courtesy of my most talented mother
  • My crappy Target half-bookshelf, procured out of desperation (short of fundage and short of shelving)
  • My softest, oldest, will-take-drastic-measures-to-get-that-stain-out, most beloved pajama pants
  • Can you identify the books visible in the photo? Once, in a post many months ago, I saw a sliver of one of these books on someone else's shelves in a bookshelf comment thread and proclaimed it to be such.

Not visible:

  • The tumbler of Blanton's (the best damn sipping whiskey west of Scotland and Ireland)
  • My current novel, War and Peace (wassup, Kirov), which I've only lately confessed to having never read
  • The canned sparkling water (I have a four-a-day habit)

Show me yours. Or simply describe it, as laziness often inhibits such processes as sharing a photo on demand.

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