Sit

I sit here, propped up, knowing the twinges in my back should be relieved. I should move, put down the pewter, join D in sleep.

I sit here, dithering, listening to Venus in Copper. Stories to help us both sleep. I resist like an overtired child.

I sit here, prompted by an idle question, where does "sleep of the just" come from? And I have to look it up.

Bible, book of Samuel.

Then I have to find "no rest for the wicked."

Then I have to check my email. Then my site.

Moby has just hopped up, trying to settle on my feet.

I have to lie down. let sleep in.