Long Tables, pt. 3

I pull at the corner but it’s no use. Molly does this trick where she turns around all night like she’s getting cranked on a spit, and the whole time she’s taking more and more of the blanket. Maybe you’ve experienced this before. Rolled up like that, she looks like a burrito or a caterpillar. Meanwhile I’m under the window and shivering. I’d ask her to stop if I thought it’d do any good.

What I do is get up for another blanket. I keep a spare in the closet for when Molly goes berserk. I use it almost every night.

The alarm clock says four-thirty in the morning.

I feel like going for a beer.