By Suzanne Kirkpatrick

The bedroom that I occupy now is not normally my bedroom, so it contains several things that don’t belong in a bedroom. Someone else’s winter coats hang in one side of one closet, and my boots are mingled with his on the floor. In another closet is a book shelf that holds notes from meetings, tape, envelopes cards to send on various occasions, and other supplies that should be in an office. In the other side of that closet sits a file cabinet which should also be in an office. Around all of these items hang my clothes, and my shoes are piled on the floor of of the book shelf side of one closet.

In the room itself sit two small desks, both with little storage space, and another file cabinet, escapees from an office. On the other side of the room stand an upright bureau and a low vanity bureau that were my parents. They were a “gift” given to my mother when she was in eighth grade. They are all of heavy maple and replaced the limed oak set chosen by her. Both bureaus hold drawers that are filled with office like materials. Part of two of the drawers actually hold my clothes.

Because of all the alien objects, there is currently no space for a comfortable chair, something that should be in a bedroom. There is, thank heaven, a comfortable bed. Once the electric blanket is turned on, it is quite inviting on a chilly winter’s night—but where is the comfortable chair in which to relax and read one of the books stored on the book case under the window asking to be read? I guess the bed will have to do.

I feel like an outsider as I curl up in the bed, pillows piled against the wall so I can read the latest AAUW Book Group selection.

 

 

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