Tonight the Role of Bed Will Be Played By Couch

There something great about falling asleep on the couch while watching TV. It's a practice round for the night's slumber ahead. Somehow it never lasts more than a half an hour, and when you wake up you wish you were already in bed. Instead you have to manage a half-conscious body drag through your evening rituals (like writing a blog entry, for example) with the deep taste of sleep on your tongue and a hunger to match. And a tendency toward unnecessary dramatic flair.

But it's sweet, that mild torture. It's like trying the cake batter. It's delicious and leaves you wanting, but it also promises cake.

And Daddy's hungry for some cake. The sweet, fluffy cake of unconsciousness.

But no icing. I don't like the icing.