Writer’s Chair

The other day I confessed to you the sorry state of my room. What I failed to mention was that aside from the piles of children's books and stacks of Amazon boxes is my favorite piece of furniture in the whole wide world; my writer's chair. Granted, currently it is covered in mounds of clothes, and a classic "Winnie the Pooh," wearing a Minnie Mouse hat from Disney World, sits atop from his throne of pillows. But I promise you that, even so it is my favorite chair. Paul bought it just for me many years ago. It is especially significant to me because most of our furniture, art, and decorative do-dads, was chosen by our dear friend, Craig. But this was and is my chair!! And it survived all of our many moves.

The reason I am writing about my chair?

I officially wrote my letter of resignation yesterday to my school. Yes, it was very sad. After becoming winded at the the mall yesterday walking from Macy's to Nordstrom's and back, I realized that the time had come for me to hang up my fingerprint and play doh. My friends find it hysterical that I discovered that my previous purpose in life was coming to an end at the mall! So, after many years of hanging out with my four and five year old friends, it might actually be time to begin conversing with grown-ups. (Do I have to?!)

What does this have to do with my chair?

On the seat of my chair, hidden underneath the piles of clothes, there might be the key to my "second act." So, today I will fold up the clothes, but Pooh bear stays, and see what it feels like to actually put my seat in my chair.