I thought of Sigmund Freud first thing this morning. I woke up and my bed was crowded. Three dogs, a wife, and a granddaughter lie scattered among the six pillows, top sheet, blanket, and a folded comforter hanging sideways off the cliff for dear life. We must have had a thunderstorm while I slept.
I deserved to sleep. I was up in the middle of the night repairing a toilet. Nothing major. The chain from the tank ball had come disconnected from the flush handle. Still, the actual task of having to remove a toilet tank lid - heavy, fragile, unpleasantly and distinctly noisy, scratchy underneath - in the middle of slumber time, demands respect. I'm a hero.