Mom, can you move over?

This request came at about 2 am last night, when my daughter finally decided to go to bed.

But she wasn't feeling well, and so she crawled in the single bed in the spare bedroom(gary had snored me out of our bedroom, again), and nestled under the tangle of covers with me and planted her cold feet on mine.

The book I was reading was digging into my ribs. Sometimes I put it on the floor, and sometimes I just stuff it against the walls (don't ask). I wrapped my arms around her, and she quickly fell asleep, and started turning into a 100-lb, 5.1 heating pad.

Then Gary woke up and noticed that the b-room light had been left on, along with the fish tank. I could hear him mumbling to himself as he turned them off, and then poked his head into her bedroom. I could almost feel the panic begin to crawl up from his stomach.

"Gary, she's in here," I chirp out helpfully. In pokes his head, and he asks how she's feeling. Then he goes back into our room and I can hear him snoring in about 5 minutes.

"Do you think dad would get me a drink?"

Too late for that honey. I'll get you one, but first, let me out of this bed.

Water in hand, she falls back to sleep and I head into her room.

The room is almost done

And all seems to be well. The rest of the room did turn out beige, but they ran out of the right beige - so now it's two tone. Back to the paint store again. I'll be at my movie fest. I promised to pick up the dog poop in the morn, but then I'm gone.