Because when Dallin's away I read poetry late into the night. And watch BYU Devotionals. And look at James Christensen art and Norman Rockwell art, and even Jackson Pollock art online. And I dabble in the piano. And I chat with long lost girlfriends on the phone. And I go through my filing cabinets and throw stacks of stuff away. And then an hour after I fall into bed, someone small wets their bed. Or wets
my bed. Or has a bad dream about bears.
When Dallin's away I get no sleep. I think I need a mother. I need the reverse of an alarm clock.
2 comments:
Your mother is probably part of the problem. If you don't talk to her on the phone late at night, you might go to bed on time. Might!!
Love
Mom
I'm just bummed about two things:
1. I wasn't the long-lost girlfriend you called (though I guess you did read my blog one of those nights, so I guess I can't complain).
2. That you do so many noble, productive things like read poetry and clean out filing cabinets when you stay up late. When I stay up late, hours go by and I can't tell you exactly what I've done that's worth reporting. Would you stop being so perfect?
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