The first thing in my head was our dog, Ella, who turns five (observed) today. Her habit is to begin at my feet, presumably shortly after I fall asleep, rolling the blankets beneath and around herself til I am left with a mere tab covering my toes and she is a Swiss roll of afghans with--inexplicably, my pillow propping up her head. I have occasional dreams of being robbed by masked highwaymen, which I've come to take with good humor.
The following came from the laundromat late this evening: one fitted sheet, flannel; one sheet, flannel; two large pillow cases, flannel; one knit cotton blanket; one plush blanket; two knit afghans; one acrylic throw. As a song of reliable import goes: Serious moonlight.
