Reading Spots

This is a light question. But when I thought about it, it brought things to light.

I love getting little glimpses into other peoples homes. Especially those people who've become my friends online. I don't know what my pictures might tell you, but I'll bet you'll see a thing or two that will add to your impression of Peg Brantley.

I just hope you don't barf.

I meandered around my house this afternoon taking pictures of places where I read. The sofa near my desk (fiction), the chaise outside my work area (fiction and non-fiction), the sectional in front of the television in my work area (non-fiction), family room sofa (fiction and non-fiction), and on and on.


The kitchen table can host fiction and non-fiction. Isn't it kind of weird that I read certain things in certain places? I will also review important documents here, and the holidays usually find me addressing Christmas cards on a catch-as-catch-can basis at this table.



George and I sit on these chaise lounges and read. Okay, not year-round (we live in Colorado), but from April (with an afghan) until October (with an afghan). If I'm eating lunch out on this deck, I'm at the table with a book propped open while the fork is going from plate to mouth. Both of these places are predominantly fiction, but the table has encountered non-fiction at other times of the day. Non-fiction for lunch? Not me.



Our courtyard area in the front of our home hosts fiction, non-fiction, and newspapers (for George). My favorite time of day in this reading spot during the hot summer months is afternoon when the shade outdoes the sun.




The living room sofa gets used by each of us at different times. For me, it's definitely a spot for fiction. George has been known to curl up with pillows in the corner window (he's part cat) and the love seat (just off camera to the right) sort of works, but isn't something either one of us can stretch out on. The great thing about this long sofa is that it is also a sweet place for a little slumber.



Speaking of slumber. Everything fiction. Not sure if you can make things out at all on my nightstand, but there's a journal with my next three books to read under it. Right next to my side of the bed is the "current" book. On the opposite wall is a small bookcase loaded with books in my TBR pile. Some of them have been there for years. {sigh}



And finally, the designated Reading Room (fiction and non-fiction). Before we created this room, if one of us became restless during the night, our best option was the guest room. Now, this little getaway is just down the hall. No television, no computer (although my laptop has made an appearance), no telephone, and at one time, no radio (George snuck in that bit of contraband when I wasn't looking and I don't have the heart to make him take it out. It's hidden.) There is a little clock so we can continue to be fairly responsible, but that's the only concession to anything other than the joy of reading.

Here's something weird . . . no fiction at my desk. Very little non-fiction. My desk is mostly work. My writing and perhaps some critiquing. Emails . . .

Oh yeah, and blogging.




Still reading (in fiction spots) Booked to Die.

It's all better with friends.