I don't think I'll ever be a pig owner.

I woke up this morning from a dream in which my cat died and my parents surprised me with a paper bag full of live pig. And with that, I became a pot-bellied pig owner.

It weirded me out at first, but then I looked down into the paper bag, past the snout and into its deep brown eyes and realized we were meant for each other. The pig, the paper bag and I had a magical ride on the Stanley Park mini train. It was love.

I came home, apartment trained my pig and immediately suffered scathing criticism from my friends. Sure, I knit, I crochet, I talk to my cats and my houseplants, and consume an average of three litres of tea per day but a pig? How could one of their friends possibly step into the abyss that is pig ownership? This just would not do.

Luckily I woke up before the epic conflict, curled up on my side with my quilt bunched and wedged up against my stomach. For whatever reason, that's the only way I can sleep on my sides these days. If I don't have something wedged up against me I'll wake up in the middle of the night with the bizarre feeling like my guts are slowly squishing their way toward the floor, and the sort of uncomfortable stretchy feeling in my hip that is really similar to the feeling you get when you wear an old, saggy bra. That's a lovely image, I'm sure.

My bed's really comfy though. Ten times comfier than the bed I have at my parents' house. I sink into it under the weight of a really heavy quilt. If only that was the cure for insomnia and somnambulism. Oh well. If you're going to lay awake all night isn't it better to be comfortable? And if you're going to be walking around oblivious, doing who knows what to get the weird bruises you tend to wake up with, wouldn't it be nice to have a comfy bed to come back to?

I think so.

I've spent all day with the copy Adorno and Horkheimer's Dialectic of Enlightenment to your right, and it's filled with good words like fungibility, ineluctable and cthonic. In. Every. Sentence.

And in other news, Abaniko made my day.