It’s amazing how far behind I can get, just because of a couple of bad nights of sleep and a dash of procrastination. If I get below a certain threshold of wakefulness, I can’t bring myself to tackle anything above and beyond mere survival, and nighttime has been crowded in the Loblaw bed. Max must have grown again, because when he crawls into the family bed at 11:30(ish) things get tricky with all the contorting, pushing and wiggling. Eventually, K or I end up on the floor, which is just as comfortable as you would think. I am no friend to the ascetic path: I like my fluffy comfy bed.
I know this is another sign of the impending arrival of the inevitable war to get Max sleeping in his own bed in his own room. I wish I didn’t loath crying in the middle of the night so much. So, thanks to a kind wife and a statutory holiday, I slept in to the luxurious hour of 8:30AM and I’m good to go. It’s ironic that by the time I can finally wake up routinely at 8:30Am, which is my body’s preferred rousing time, I’ll probably be too old to sleep that long anymore. Sigh.
Other things to eventually talk about here: How Anonymity is Unnatural, what I thought about the new LCD Soundsystem and Band of Horses albums, and one other thing that I can’t quite remember at the moment. Oh now I remember, The return of Rock’n’Roll to my heart. Stay tuned, gentle reader.