In the afternoon I take my laptop and work from the Burrow House, the store that sells “the most clever, comfortable sofa.” It’s a place where customers can customize their couch, sure, but it’s also one of those stores that serve you beer or prosecco and literally has a movie theater in the basement where people are supposed to hang out.
And so I hang out. I sit on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, and write about the past week while the store manager serves me raspberry tea and the rain plops down on the skylight above me. It’s beautiful here, and they play the kind of music from late-aughts coffee shops: the Fray, Coldplay, Alicia Keys. It’s relaxing in a way that only exists in stores that hope you are about to spend thousands of dollars there.