We were all up late last night..well, late for US, anyway, and Henry came home with red eyes and his characteristic piss-ass attitude that usually ends up in a nap right about….NOW.
He’s upstairs, in the big overstuffed chair, reading his new library book,and I sense that the nap is coming. It’s inevitable. I can hear him breathing heavy. Our house is weird that way; there’s two wings, kind of; with one wing leading to a spiral staircase (very retro) and so I am downstairs but not really downstairs, if that makes any sense.