It’s where we live, more a state of mind than a building. You can be in ComfyTown anywhere, follow 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 work clothes, you didn’t do pilates, 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, it was 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 "Kid Comfy," which means super freaking messy. It’s getting harder to stay comfy with three 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 PILATES. Even if we really should.
If you want to take a marshmallow train to ComfyTown, but your house is clean and you hate spilling, don’t worry. You can be comfy. If your house is really nice, it’s going to take some effort. If you’re a neat freak and rigid beyond change, hey that’s cool. It was nice to meet you, you should really go now.
If you are up to your balls in stress balls, and at least need a laugh? 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 with your kids or significant other, 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.