On my umpteenth day of hacking and coughing — don’t worry, the computer screen doubles as a sneeze guard — my thoughts naturally turned to creating a stylish recovery room.
It started when the telephone rang and I discovered that the land line was an impossible 15 feet distance from the couch. I made this discovery by first attempting to answer the cell phone kept conveniently at my side. No matter how loudly you shout “hello” into your mobile, a land-line caller will not respond. I should have simply chalked up the ringing to a symptom of stuffed sinuses and gone back to sleep because, even with my limited grasp on statistics, I knew the odds that this incoming call was of any consequence was zero to nil. And yet I felt compelled to drag my aching body across the room to answer said ringing phone.
Turns out, I can get a really good deal on a bank loan.
When I made it back to the couch in what felt like 2.5 hours later but may have been closer to 14 seconds, I began to carefully plan out the perfect convalescence room in the Pinterest of my brain. Yes, I am referring to a virtual bulletin board of a virtual bulletin board because that’s just the kind of home writer I am — feverish.
And here are some of the things I found online to create my pretend perfect recovery room:
First off I would need the Bouloum Lounge by Olivier Mourgue to sit in a semi-upright position. With a head cold, the last thing I want to do is lie flat in bed. And I can only plump a pillow so many times before the act resembles something violent involving flying feathers. The Bouloum, designed in 1969, is shaped like a large, flat, seated, person. I imagine lounging in one is akin to sitting on the lap of a really comfortable Santa without the stress of having to fib that I’ve been good all year. The tubular steel frame is upholstered in a comfy foam at Hive Modern for $1,495.
Very nearby, I would need the Tiki tissue holder, about $21, at Target. Does a box of Kleenex really need to be disguised as a Tiki head? Do drinks taste better with paper umbrellas?
Then I like the idea of balancing my lap top on a wool and linen pillow by NPG (stands for non-perishable goods) for about $100 at Alder & Co. Why? Because it has a Swiss Army cross on it, dang it, and it’s going to take an army to fight the germs lurking in this wheezing bag of bones. Either that or I need a pillow with a quarantine flag.
And then, because nobody should have to look at me, I need a wood and paper room divider by Crown Mark, $59 at City Liquidators.
It would probably make an excellent bonfire if I should have to burn all my belongings, The Velveteen Rabbit style, when this is over.