Chapter SevenWhen the f**k did this pillow get so hard?
I know it’s not the pillow. I’ve slept on this same pillow every night for the last three years, and it’s not like the goose down just decided on this particular night to spontaneously harden into what feels like honed limestone.
And why is it so hot?
Blanket off.
Fuck. Now it’s cold.
Blanket back on.
I kick the blanket back off with a frustrated karate kick and look at the clock, it reads 1:10am. I have tossed and turned for the better part of the last four hours and I’m ready to give up on chasing sleep, go park my cranky a*s on the couch, and find something to watch on TV. Chances are good there’s an old episode of Frasier to be found to help me nod back off to la la land. The delectable, super quick and clever banter between
