winter's hard slumber

Tree. Rock. Cold. Cat. Wood. Fire.
That sums up the past 3 months of winter. Every night we look at the neatly-made bed as a place to go and drink a cup of sleep -- it is there, we can see it, the unshaped deep dark softness -- but every late early am it isn't there, it all goes sifting through my fingers, sleep

Here is a string from the comics page one day:
"here ya go Bently, ok ok Johnny what is it, when our coffee is all gone, what is it andy what have you found, a bowl of corn flakes and a bottle of beer, but something is mighty fishy with this heist, betrayed by tuna, my whole world is upside-down, sigh weeks of fretting over Ben all for nothing, it's vital I study the geyser of steam at once, I wonder if this dress needs washing, Betty and I are going shopping for clothes! you can join us!"