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THE HOOK’S BEDROOM: 2:30 am.

I awoke, dizzy, feverish and uncovered. Desperately, I yanked and tugged (at the covers… perverts) until the wife relented – an hour later. An hour after that, our daughter wandered in, overtime by an asthma attack. She recovered nicely – eventually – and drifted back to Morpheus’ embrace. (Incidentally, he’s the only male allowed to embrace my daughter – for now, at least.)

THE HOOK’S BEDROOM: 5 am.

I drift back to sleep.

THE HOOK’S BEDROOM: 7 am.

The alarm buzzes, shattering the morning calm. What follows are the thoughts that ran through my mind following the clarion call to work.

“If I can only reach the alarm, I’ll be good.”

“If I can only fall out of bed – quietly –  I’ll be good.”

“If I can only fall down the stairs – softly – I’ll be good.”

“If I can only reach the…

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