I can go along with most of this:
I love being naked. If I’m home and no one is over, chances are I’m naked or wearing one of my fabulous robes (I have five!). I sleep naked every night and practice yoga naked every morning. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not practicing Rockette high kicks naked in the living room or sitting my bare butt on all the surfaces in the house or anything. I really just feel 100 percent more free when I am naked or in a sassy robe.
When I get home I like to drop my clothes immediately. Sometimes I wonder if my neighbors know that five seconds after I close my door I transform into a naked wood nymph. (Don’t Google that in a coffee shop, trust me on this one.) When I get home and undress it feels like I am shedding the entire day. I get to let go of the highs and the lows and just breathe in the moment. I’m able to cast off all the pressure to be someone I’m not to please others. I’m just left with my thoughts, my feelings, my body and my breath.
I’d bet she has towels scattered about the house to park said bare butt upon. It’s a lot easier to wash a load of towels than to spot-clean the upholstery on a regular basis.
I have, alas, only two robes, one of which is destined for ragdom and neither of which are exactly fabulous. I held onto the former long past its expiration date, simply because once upon a time my ex said something moderately risqué about it, the sort of thing I’d never heard her say before, and haven’t since. The other is what I will have on when I greet you at the door, unless, um, other arrangements have been made.
I sent “naked wood nymph” through Bing, on which I have the security set at “Westboro Baptist,” and got some highly amusing pixellated pictures, some of which link to things I’d just as soon not link to. Then again, I never was particularly into wood nymphs no matter what their, um, bark.
Tangential: While trying to find an alternative to “bark” in the preceding sentence, I struck this bit of gold on Wikipedia: “Although the bark functions as a protective barrier, it is itself attacked by boring insects such as beetles.” I imagined a semi-anthropomorphized beetle, standing on its hind legs, wagging one of the front ones at me: “I am not boring!” Perhaps I don’t drink enough.