I slept on the couch last night. No, I wasn’t in trouble with Brent or anything. I was just restless and my stomach was a little upset and I felt a little panicky. When Cricket decided to bark at the darkness out back at midnight, I gave up trying to stay in the nice warm bed and dragged my pillow down to the couch with me, where I pulled a blanket over me. Cricket settled in behind my knees and I slept more peacefully from that point on.

I woke up past my usual wake-up time, but it is still dark at 5, just like it is at 4. Waking up to a view of a lighted Christmas tree is pretty darn nice.

I used to sleep on a couch all the time. My little house didn’t have a bedroom for me. I was bothered much more by the lack of a closet than the lack of a bed, to be honest. This made people look at me funny. But sleeping on the couch is almost cozier than the bed, more like a treat, a camp-out, a sleepover. There isn’t a lot of room. That’s okay because it ends up working like swaddling a baby, calming me down and holding me still.

I could go curl up there again, if I didn’t have to go to work and all.