the hidden law of a probable outcome

i've always felt there's soemthing slightly decadant about going back to bed simply for the purpose of reading.

my bed is currently a jumble of soft edges, rough blankets and flattened pillows. i'm sure if i dig deep enough i'll find socks, a shirt or two, a hanger, my copy of blackwood farm and a purple pen. there's also two sock monkeys and a bear in there as well, of that i'm sure.

i'm feeling disinclined to dress. all i want to do is slip back into my bed, with more books. unfortunately, i need to slip out and buy bread, do some more dishes, dust some verious surfaces, mop the kitchen floor, figure out dinner and set up my calendar for the coming year.

my dilemma seems to be between living and life.

call me and distract me. please.