Pop and I are in the kitchen. I am cleaning up after dinner and filling the ice trays, and Pop is getting another round of medication. He says that he is sleeping good and late in the mornings. He says that he is not putting on the music and dozing, but he is soundly sleeping until after ten o’clock.
I tell him that’s good. I think sleep is restorative. He agrees, but he says that it puts him behind. I marvel again that he sees himself as being so busy. He doesn’t really have that much to do, save a little shopping and making sure the bills are getting paid. He chuckles, “It is a good life.” I nod and agree, “Yes, it’s a good life.”
Incidentally, I am also sleeping later. Maybe it is the temperate weather. It is a tough challenge to get out of bed before the stroke of eight. Usually, I was lucky to sleep past seven. I guess it’s not that much of a difference, but it is a precious hour of the best sleep, and I have been feeling better and more rested throughout the day for it. I hate going back to eight-thirty breakfasts, though. The day runs more smoothly for me when I can slide into an early lunch and then an early dinner. A late breakfast can throw that off.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
