Naptime

Yesterday, my friend Kevin's cat died. Ridley, also known as Ritalin, lived an extra year. Kevin expected him to die last year. Ridley hung in and kept living.
Kevin looked soft yesterday. He had spent the whole day with Ridley. At the end, Ridley was just pure tenacity. He was mostly blind, deaf and lost the sense of smell. Had no teeth. Just his four legs and a shabby coat. He spent his time sleeping, looking for the warmest spots around; the ones that are sun-kissed and wind-sheltered.
Yesterday, Too Li inherited the toy that Ridley owned. It is a stuffed beaver. Ever since Too Li laid eyes on it, it was special to her. Last night, Too Li removed the white stuffing out of the beaver (named Chewy) and the malfunctioning squeak bladder. Dogs like taking the stuffing out of toys.
Kevin said: "Rob, the dog has changed you." That is true, I sense it, though it isn't apparent to me. I sleep more. It is alarming, but then so is just about everything else going on. I am learning from Too Li; she is a good teacher. Repetition, repetition. I watch what she does, over and over and I have started to copy her. I sleep more and it is OK. I am not doing anything important right now anyway. Not like I have a job or any interests. I only like going to cafes, cooking and my patio. If I have a working computer, I like perusing the internet. I like puzzles, too. That's about all. I like.
I like writing. I like writing in a specific way. Writing with a lot of knots in it. Knots and beads and gems. Tied up and untied untill the words and the fabric the words live in get curly and kinked-up and soft and pliable. Chewed and frayed and comfy. It is weaving, it is cooking. It is really hard to do.
It is the waiting. The interminable waiting. Waiting for the right ingredients, the bread to rise, the stew to stew. That is why I don't mind sleeping. I have come to realize that important stuff goes on while I sleep and to leave well enough alone.
Too Li sleeps a lot. I mean, she is a champion sleeper. No way could I get to that level of competence.
I know what you are thinking. Sleeping 18 hours a day is not competence. It is lazyness! Or depression. Or something wrong! Right? Weeellllll, maybe-----
Maybe not. Desperation makes for odd bedfellows. Anyway, I have been awake for two hours and it is time for a nap. Goodnight.