No sleep is happening at Casa Erin. In case you were wondering with baited breath WHY GOD WHY, it's because we're working through Sweet Baby Ike's dastardly sleep issues. It's an important mission that we have chosen to accept, but the consequence is that everyone in this house has become insanely delirious, and that I spend a lot of time staring into space trying to remember what my name is. Sleep is a funny thing. If you sleep well, you never think twice about it. If you sleep poorly, it's all you ever think about. Obsess about. Fantasize about. If you don't sleep well, your skin gets wrinkly and your temper grows short and your IQ drops a minimum of 867 points. And you become very hungry for cookies. So I'm tired and old and mean and stupid and I have a raging sugar addiction.
Yeah, that sounds about right. Fuck.
Anyway, I can barely string together words and things, much less present you with a well researched, thoughtful post, so I'm resorting to Plan B:
Let's take a nap together. Now, you can choose your own adventure, but I'm planning to float to dreamland right here. I suppose you could join me, as long as you don't hog the covers or snore like a chinchilla. What do you think of those pillows sewn corner to corner, creating a fluffy resting place for one's sweet angel head? How about those crazy architectural details, which I believe are actually some sort of WALLPAPER? Don't forget the sleek mirrored surfaces -- all the better to admire one's luminous skin, which will surely be refreshed and restored by hours of glorious sleep.
Truly, there is no more beautiful word in all of the English language.
Nighty night. Sleep tight.
Photo by Nicolas Matheus