Clook

My sister converted her walk-in closet into an office, or “cloffice.” She put a little desk in there for telemedicine calls. Tossed in some comfy oversized pillows for Kindle reading. She taunts me with selfies in her cloffice oasis, sipping bubbly glasses of champagne and savoring chocolate bars away from her grabby offspring.

Shoot, I want a little hideaway! I want a place to escape from the chaos of bickering children. I want to drink my coffee in blissful serenity. I want to eat a bag of M&M’s and NOT share with my beloved.

Alas, my closet is tiny and filled to the brim with junk. At best, it can be a closet nook, or “clook.” I made a vain attempt to beautify my closet.  

My inspiration:

My reality:

I suppose any personal space is better than none. So the next time you can’t find me, I’ll be lounging in my clook. Better yet, don’t look in my clook because I’m taking my much needed time out.