Mudcat
yap
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- Jan 27, 2010
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I can see how you would think that. Afghanistan and all that. But it's an art form (craft form?) with a huge variety of presentations.
I have a very similar cherished memory. When I was a child I had difficulty sleeping. That carried on (drug abuse aside) well into adulthood. Only in the last 10 years or so have I gotten to the point where I would say I sleep okay.
Anyway, I remember lying in bed as a child, unable to sleep. I hated it. There was excessive crappy thinking and then my muscles would feel like springs wanting to uncoil. Just unrelenting agitation.
Anyway, if it was winter, the "hot air duct" would periodically turn on. It was the most beautiful serene sound. That is such a big part of it in my soul - that sound. I would crawl over there. In my room it was right under the window and you could feel the cold - but I had my afghan and I would make a warm little nest on it with the cold just inches away.
Soothing like few things in life.
If I had to pick a memory of childhood happiness, lying on the living room floor in the winter, my feet over the heat register, under an afghan that was all puffed up with hot furnace air...
That would be right up there.
I have a very similar cherished memory. When I was a child I had difficulty sleeping. That carried on (drug abuse aside) well into adulthood. Only in the last 10 years or so have I gotten to the point where I would say I sleep okay.
Anyway, I remember lying in bed as a child, unable to sleep. I hated it. There was excessive crappy thinking and then my muscles would feel like springs wanting to uncoil. Just unrelenting agitation.
Anyway, if it was winter, the "hot air duct" would periodically turn on. It was the most beautiful serene sound. That is such a big part of it in my soul - that sound. I would crawl over there. In my room it was right under the window and you could feel the cold - but I had my afghan and I would make a warm little nest on it with the cold just inches away.
Soothing like few things in life.