I’ll confess that I struggle with workaholic tendencies. I’ve thereby endured prolonged pain; physical, emotional, and psychological. But recently I’ve discovered the joy of being comfortable while doing NOTHING. Laying on the couch is my favorite indulgence. No TV or other distractions, just comfort and perhaps drifting off to sleep to pleasant dreams.

But doing nothing is an exaggeration. My mind can be very active. Recalling adventures—not necessarily pleasant at the time—is fun to relive in my mind without the necessity of the unpleasantness. I enjoy replaying parts of our written stories visualizing the scenes and frequently get new ideas. I remember people, some from over fifty years ago, with fondness and often pray for them.   

The couch can be my eccentric time machine or a magic carpet to take me anywhere I wish.