Happiness is a fireplace and a good book.
I've noticed that there is a dearth of cuddling at home. But there is an abundance of fireplaces and good books that provides some happy alone time I haven't had in quite awhile. I'm rereading the Anne of Green Gables books. I used to read them once a year. I've noticed that it's not as easy any more to sink back into the mind of that 11-year-old girl. But I also find myself noticing more than I used to. They're amazing books. I'm thinking I may be up absurdly late tonight working on the first one. There's something about the idea of that that just feels like home. I may have to consider the Little Women trilogy or the Chronicles of Narnia next. I used to read the Chronicles once a year as well. I'm pretty sure I don't have time for the Laura Ingalls Wilder books. All these books that were such a huge part of my childhood. I was such an avid historical fiction reader, well before my fantasy/sci-fi interest took hold. I think I read all that my elementary school library had to offer. But I definitely had my favorites, and those are the ones that still sit on my bookshelves for me to pick up again when I need a reminder of who I am. And now I think I must be off. There's a vivacious redhead calling my name.