I wanna live in the living room.

In Sardinia, we live in the kitchen. Hardly ever in the living room. Therefore, I don't understand why the living room is called the living room. Back home in Minnesota, I live all over the house. Much of my day is spent in my study. On the computer. But I eat in the kitchen, with a view of the television in the living room. My house is rather open. The kitchen and living room pretty much blend into each other. In Sardinia, the rooms are rather distinct. Separate. The living room is by far the biggest room in the house, The master bedroom, ranks next. The kitchen is relatively small. And it lacks a microwave oven. And a toaster. But before I leave in March, I'll introduce my true love to such modern conveniences. Albeit, she'll protest. And drag her feet. I'd also like to introduce her to a clothes dryer. Like everyone has in America. But she's partial to hanging clothes out on a line. Draped off the balcony. And that has its advantages. A fresher scent for the clothes. But on a rainy day, it'd be nice to have a fallback option. A clothes dryer. And for the ability to fluff up the clothes just before wearing. Anyway, I'd like to spend more time living in the living room. I'm gonna promote that idea. It's the most nicely furnished room. With family heirlooms. A magnificent dining table. Mirrored bureaus. A yellow leather sofa. And matching loveseat. Two nice carpets. A huge palm-potted plant. And a balcony. Looking west. Providing a view of colorful sunsets. No doubt, it's both casual and elegant. All the more reason that the living room should be truly lived in. --Jim Broede