Inconsequential factoid. I slept in the center of the king bed last night on what shall now be known as the hill between the valleys of the two bodies. All the ancillary pillows that decorate the bed were removed, rather than be pushed to one side, and I had it all to myself. It felt good, as though a manservant would be ready to dress me in the morning after bringing me papers to sign. None appeared, so that’s a false hope, I’ll pursue the program, however, to see what, if anything, it does for my sleep.

I wonder if having a bed that size all to one’s self is the nighttime equivalent of having curtains that drag the floor because you, by God, are rich enough to afford the extra tapestries. Maybe. Given that almost everyone has a king size bed these days, I think; it’s hard to believe anyone would pass through my bedroom and go, wow, this guy is well off, especially since the curtains in the room don’t drag the floor. If I’m going for faux symbols of wealth, I probably should replace them with ones that do. Drag the floor.

Before bed last night I had dinner with friends. Sausage, sauerkraut, and potato salad, with a beer. It hit the spot, as did the company. Nearly didn’t go because I was in an Eeyore mood and that typically precludes movement, but I cast it off, pretended to be Piglet, if not Tigger, and got in the car and drove. What have they done to Dripping Springs? There’s traffic at five. What two points are they moving to and from? At least the stoplights still start flashing at ten, so all is not lost. Maybe it was simply a drill for the day when Austin finishes eating the town.