Who Was That Masked Woman?

As summer starts to heat up here in the humidity capital of the east coast, one's fancy naturally turns to sleep.

And sleep was what I was trying to do the other night.  Sleep was somewhat impaired by the sound of heavy construction equipment being operated by my wife.  Most people refer to this as snoring.

Normally it takes me a few rounds of poking and prodding to get the Snoring Follies to stop.  This night was no different.  I thought the task would be a little easier because of the warm body pressed against my back, so I shook, trying to jar her out of her snoring frenzy.  No luck.

Again I shook, nay, jerked.  And again, the snoring continued unabated.

So I turned to the warm body, intent on making my point more pointedly, only to notice that the warm body belonged to the dog.  The wife was snoring, all the way over on her seventy-five percent of the bed.

When we rescued Marshall, no one warned me that he liked to spoon.