I am sitting on the sofa and I have a book in my hand. I decided to read a bit before going to rest but... I am missing something... Of course I am missing a support for my feet! So I call my doormat and have it lie down under me. I tell it I want to read and it goes without saying that it shouldn't bother me but it just has to be my footstool. So I begin my reading, putting the Stuart Weitzman boots on his head. I totally ignore it until I order it to take off my boots. Now I am even more comfortable wearing only my gray pantyhose. My doormat does not breathe, it just suffers. When the yawns become frequent and I understand that it's time to go to rest, I chase it away.