The Swellesley Inn: hotel for dogs?

Time for me to make a reservation for my own room, or so it seems. No sooner did Grandma finish up her visit than our cousins booked the place for the weekend.

What is this, a revolving door? A B&B? All Mom does now is bake muffins and wash bedding. It's ridiculous. What I want is a dedicated sleeping spot, and so I proved my point this week. First, I pouted in my beanbag. And I mean in.

Next, I took advantage of the guest-ready parlor (parlance for small living room just right for some good sleeping) and snuggled on the loveseat (white). However, I was not there long enough to pose for a photo.

Then, just as Mom was about to do more bedding, I scored the down comforter as I came back from my marathon walk. Notice I do look a bit embarrassed, but not embarrassed enough to move. In fact, thanks to the laptop, I still haven't gotten up.