annoyingwizard: karenredbush: Lol … yes, if you’d peeped through my bedroom door when I
annoyingwizard: karenredbush: Lol … yes, if you’d peeped through my bedroom door when I was a teenage girl, you’d have been greeted with this sight on many a bedtime ! Our stepmother maintained a *sitting room* off her bedroom. It was a quiet place where she could read, or perform some of her hobbies like crocheting or needle point. We weren’t *normally* allowed in there. Except if she *invited* you to join her there. [Sometimes you were taken in there, dragging your feet all the way!] Then you got to see [and feel] another side of her that was not so calm and not so placid. The irony was, it was called a *sitting room*. Not from our perspective. After visiting her *inner sanctum*, the last thing on your mind was Sitting! Mother made damn sure of that! -- source link