15th December 2021

Good sleep has always been a mystery to me, something I have consistently sought and failed to discover. The very term ‘good’ is a descriptor that includes far too many alternatives, from the depth of slumber reminiscent of a coma, to being able to flit in and out of rest with the casualness of an easily startled moth. The only sensible definition must surely be a form that produces adequate refreshment if and when activity is required, relaxing the body and mind to produce a positive degree of stress relief. Personally, I seldom sleep long enough to adequately fulfill either of functions, and if I do always find it occurs at the most inconvenient and inappropriate of times, in a   the antithetical of fashions.

Perhaps I was designed to be a cat, capable of constant dozing, intermingled with occasional erratic prowling, A Cheshire cat, inclined towards fattening around the waistline, spewing constant obtuse and unhelpful comments from my occasionally audible and visible bubble of well-honed idiosyncrasies up in these shady branches.

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