Bedfellows

Saturday night. I have the soundtrack to The Hours on the stereo and am awash in a pleasant melancholy. Adam is still away at his Texas conference. So it’s just me, G. the cat, and my laptop sharing the bed tonight. The laptop is present in a very literal sense. It’s tucked under Adam’s pillow and at the ready... just in case I find nocturnal inspiration for the article I’m struggling to complete. The answer to all my writing blocks—or blocks of any kind—is in sleep. Tipping into a real dreamland now, wouldn't it be grand to wake up tomorrow and find I'd managed to sleep-write my piece?