An old, yet relevant and non-political piece.
Studly Doright fell into a deep sleep as soon as the lights went off in Doright Manor last night. In contrast I watched the minutes, then hours, tick by on my Fitbit, practiced coordinating my deep breathing skills with the rise and fall of his snores, and not only counted sheep, but also organized them according to height, weight, and quality of fleece. It was a long night.
Twice during the night I felt the call of nature. Being a considerate woman even in a state of severe sleep deprivation, I carefully slid out from under the covers, making the most minute movements imaginable. With the stealth of a cat I moved through our bedroom and down the hall to access one of the guest bathrooms in order to allow dearest Studly to slumber in peace, undisturbed by the sound of a flushing toilet or running water.
Returning to bed…
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