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Monday, November 7, 2011


Morning naps... afternoon naps....

Bed time....
Car naps...

Cuddle naps...

ANY time naps... I love to sleep.

Sleep is good. No wonder two leggeds write poetry about it.

Like this:
To Sleep by John Keats

O soft embalmer of the still midnight!

Shutting, with careful fingers and benign.

Our gloom-please’d eyes, embower’d from the light.

Enshaded in forgetfulness divine,

O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close,

In midst of this time hymn, my willing eyes.

Or wait the Amen, ere the poppy throws

Around my bed its lulling charities;

Then save me, or the passed day will shine

Upon my pillow, breeding many woes;

Save me from curious conscience, that still hoards

Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;

Turn the key deftly in the oiled words,

And seal the hushed casket of my soul.

Now, stop it with the stupid camera and flash. Respect the sleep. [Insomniacs have NO respect for sleep.] I need my sleep, Go find something to do. Better yet, cuddle me!


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