Evening Elevation

Trudging back from the thrift shop pavement put seventy miles of wear into my sneaker soles. Wandering about looking for more things to critique won't cure stiff joints, but proper rest will. I hauled myself onto the dark green velvet ottoman, hauled a small circular crocheted doily down from the chair arm, and draped it squarely across my knees like a proper lap rug. People spend fortunes on electric blankets when four inches of honest cotton weave does the job without running up the meter. I leaned back against the firm buttoned cushion, folded my hands over my wrist, and let the grandfather clock handle the talking for the rest of the evening.