Generally, I get up at the same time he does. At least on weekdays-- on weekends I tend to wake up earlier than he does. Elvis doesn't really set his alarm for himself, at least not in reality. He sets it, it goes off, it wakes me up, and I poke him until he's awake, too-- or at least awake enough to hit the snooze button. Unless there is specifically someplace I need to be, my alarm is nothing more than a backup. This morning, however, I never even heard his alarm. Which wouldn't have been the end of the world if I had remembered to set my alarm which, of course, I didn't.

Elvis, though, managed to wake up without my prodding. He decided that I obviously needed the sleep, and went about getting ready for work as quietly as possible so I wouldn't wake up. Which I didn't until about 9 o'clock, when he came over to kiss me good-bye. "Go back to sleep," he said, and drew the curtains.

Yeah, right. I resolved to do what I usually do when Elvis suggests that I sleep in: wait until he leaves the apartment, and then get up and get on with things. And then I rolled over. And then I woke up, and it was some time after noon.

Oops.

Guess he was right: I DID need the sleep.

It was a beautiful day today. Bright and sunny and just the right degree of warm for Spring. Perfection. So I spent it wandering around the apartment trying to wake up, eating lunch, and making an expedition to Jumbo, brand new yet defunct vacuum in tow. I can't help but think that I could have done such a glorious day better justice.

On the other hand, it's just as well. Nigel, you see, is coming into town to celebrate his birthday tonight. And when Nigel comes out from Lisbon, it can only mean one thing:

Late Night Bar of Evil.