I woke up with a sore ear. It was cauliflowered from sleeping all night on one side, ear pushed into pillow at an odd angle. The mirror reflects a worse than usual morning face, with a crater-like dent in my forehead, the imprint of my left hand slung over the top of the pilled and draped, then pressed into my face. Why is my right shoulder making “snap, crackle and pop” breakfast cereal noises?
Poor Buck. My restless night insures he has one, too, his boat adrift on a sea of flailing legs, windmilling arms, sighs, pillows tossed on the floor and scratchy metal-on-wood noises that signal my search for radio ear buds.