I sleep in the dining room:

I came home from the hospital to discover my bed in the dining room. The table and chairs had been moved out and my bed had taken their place. I, in my debilitated state, am not allowed to walk up and down stairs multiple times a day. My location in the dining room saves me the energy of tackling the stairs and means inclusion in family happenings. My bedroom upstairs would have felt like the isolation cabin on The Parent Trap, only without a newly discovered twin sister. I convinced them to move my bed a bit farther into the family room, so I can see the TV properly. But now, I have everything I need. (Kitchen is close too).

My parents-- maybe I should just say mom because it was her idea--are indeed thoughtful. Also, my mom has arthritis, so tackling the stairs multiple times a day to care for me would have been dully as painful. You know, now that I think about it, it may be that the plan was always more about my mom's joints and less about my comfort. Well whatever. Either way, I am still sleeping in the dining room.