The Woolen Bunk

I slipped back inside through the lower door flap, my joints craving a solid landing after wrestling out on the patio all afternoon. Parked right on the woven runner was a massive charcoal-gray wool house slipper lined with thick white shearling. It looked like an armored, fleece-lined mountain cabin! I leaped straight over the curved rim and sank calf-deep into the dense fleece cushion. The fluffy lining yielded with a muffled sigh, wrapping warmth around my legs. Leaning my shoulders back against the sturdy padded heel counter, I stretched my boots out toward the dark toe cave and let out a long breath. Recharging inside a personal fortress beats any ordinary training mat!