God has blessed me enormously. You are probably assuming I speak of my giant belly. A valid assumption that is, but I speak of sleep. Flaco had been waking up around six in the morning (or rather, I was lucky if he made it to six!) and I would drag my sorry self out of bed all crumpled and tired feeling. And now, suddenly, in these last weeks when I'm so very tired and waking up all night long, he has taken to sleeping until 9:30. Nine thirty! And he has taken to napping for two or three hours during the day! Which means that I get to drag my sorry self into bed all crumpled and tired and lay there happy as a clam. Oh yes, I am like a clam. The fact that I'm sleeping again also means that I'm dreaming again. Most recently I dreamed that Matthew was Vladimir Putin's puppy. Not half-puppy half-himself but completely himself and completely a puppy (and also a bit mongoose. Twitchy and long-tailed and adoptive of mongoose poses.) Putin was in exile in Siberia, and he spent his days carving wooden statues in Matthew's likeness, until one fateful day when the CIA, in a plot to undermine the Russians, tried to steal him. Matt, that is. It was an American girl disguised as a jogger, but the plan was thwarted by a kindly Russian hobo who, up until then, was suspected to be a spy. Or a scarecrow. You see, you see? It is an enormous blessing to sleep.