A Bedside Tangle

I finally dragged my tired feet back inside from the promenade, just wanting to set my teal postcard down somewhere safe. But of course, reaching up toward the oak nightstand, my sleeve snagged the looped cord of the bedside lamp. The tiny brass pull-chain clinked loudly against the ceramic lamp base, and I jerked in surprise, knocking my shoe right against a stack of vintage paperbacks on the rug. Sigh. Everything had to wobble at once. But the jerk clicked the lamp on, casting a warm amber glow over the scalloped edges of my card. I just collapsed right there on the rug, too exhausted to move.