A More Pleasurable Way of Being

Once, while home with a head cold, I learned something about my apartment.

The daylight in the main room is thin and weak. But the back room, my bedroom, gets wide sheets of warm light from sunup to sundown. I’d never been home enough during the day to notice it.

When I first moved in, I’d put the table set from my grandfather’s house and big poof of a reading chair in the main room. My bed, dirty laundry, slippers, and bathrobe went to the back room. That seemed like a sensible arrangement.

One afternoon, after my head cold passed, my father came over and we flipped my sensible arrangement. Bed to the dusky front, reading chair and Grandpa Jim’s table set to the sunlit back.

Now, in the evenings, I sit in my reading chair, relishing the day’s last light and my illogical setup. It isn’t lost on me that being home when I wasn’t usually home challenged my assumptions about how I’d arranged a piece of my life.

And I appreciate now in a way I hadn’t before that a little shift in our usual patterns can point the way to a more pleasurable way of being.

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