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My Favorite Place to Be

            My favorite place to be is in my apartment. I cherish it like it is the last diamond in the world, even though it is so simple. I have been living in my chambers for five years now. Even though my egg shell colored pad is undersized like the space in a shoe box, it still accommodates my daughter and me. My suite is warm and inviting, completely relaxing, and totally safe. As I take my first step into my chambers, I am intoxicated by the fresh scent of ocean breeze air fresher. I saunter into pad, I flop down on an enormous plush ebony sofa, and look up at the golden pearl ceiling fan, and feel the cool breeze from it. Across the room, there is a black T.V. stand with a rather small television. Behind it stands a palm tree with leaves that barely hanging over the T.V. In the middle of the floor, there is a cherry wood coffee table which are accompanied by two cherry wood end tables that sit on both ends of ebony sofas. There are golden-brown, African pictures on every wall, and hanging from every window are blissful brown curtains. The dining area where a dining table use to be have been replace by a heap of my daughter's toys. Around the corner is a fairly size- kitchen, with up to date appliances. The scent of last nights dinner still floats in the air. Even though my apartment is not as fancy as others, it has that warm feeling, and it is relaxing.
             Every day after an excruciating day at work, I fill the tub with steaming water. Then, I pour in mixture of silky smooth bubble bath with a hint of chamomile. Slowly as a snail I sink into the hot water like the Titanic. The steaming water melts away the stress like ice cream on a summer day, and I wrap myself into an oversize plush towel that is as soft as cotton candy. I retreat to my king size bed, which has a memory foam pillow top mattress that would rock even a night owl to sleep. Not only is my apartment relaxing, but it is convenient as a hooker on the corner; still, it is as safe as high security jail cell.

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