What The Hell Is A ComfyTown?

It’s where we live, more a state of mind. You can be in ComfyTown anywhere, follow the box car kids, or whatever they call the train-hoppin hobos and do what makes you happy. 

I originally gave the name “Comfytown” to my then-boyfriend’s house where he grew up. It changed my life. It was an older, super comfortable, big, squishy, (H(O(M)E) house. You didn’t wear dress clothes, you didn’t do freaking pilates, you didn't worry about getting dirt on the guest towels, you came in and made yourself comfy. Stress didn’t fit there.

I could write a whole (chapter of a) book on the house, but to give you an idea….
Imagine a house-shaped hug made of puffy, non-humid clouds. As soon as you enter your clothes transform into a velvet Snuggie, with purring kittens for slippers, and the furniture? Is made of freshly baked bread. They serve beer for dinner, you invent your own brand of spin-dancing in the front room, and get into a big, gross mashed potato fight, and then leave that potato mess ALL OVER the dining room until you come back. (Two days later.) You can spill an entire bottle of red wine anywhere in the house and it’s ok. For a clumsy drinker, this shit is Shangri--Sham-Wow--La.
I’m not even doing it justice, but that house and my now-husband, redefined comfy for me. From then to now, I never want to live an uncomfy life. I obviously married the crap out of that charming son-of-a-bee, and had some awesome kids. We call everywhere we live “Comfytown” because we’re pretty much royals of Comfort. It's so liberating we've even incorporated the word "LIBERTY" into our super [not so] Secret Handshake. 

We worry about being comfy and having fun, and not what our design aesthetic is. It’s hard to stay comfy with THREE damn kids (1 drama queen and 2 jerks,) but we don’t argue, we don’t stress, we don’t scrub every surface with chemicals every Saturday just to say “Oh yeah, that shit is CLEAN,” and we still don’t do freaking PILATES. Even if we really should.
If you are up to your balls in stress balls, and long to be comfy? I can help.

The recipe for AwesomeSecretSauce? PLAY. Make a mess. Paint crappy pictures on paper or in coloring books. Dance like a dork. Lay in the grass, don't worry about grass stains, and just be silly. Use the good, pretty plates every day if they make you happy. EAT the damn cake. Don't beat yourself up for being human.

Until I write my complete “How to Succeed in Comfy Without Really Trying” instructional graphic novel, I’ll take you through what makes us happier than most people you’ll ever know. 

You may never build an indoor court for Mashed Potato Volleyball, but you’ll laugh more.


  1. You are an amazing author "the new Erma Bombeck" go get them girl. Or maybe just put your PJ's on and have a glass of wine ;) Binky

    1. Aw go on. No really GO ON, nyuk nyuk. I'm almost always in my pajajays, but I prefer beer as you do. Actually, these days with the sleep deprivation, I find brown liquor in a caffeinated beverage does a lot better at keeping me awake and (semi)sane.

      Maybe that's a sign I should go to a meeting, but I won't.
      Thanks for reading! STAY COMFY