Pounciness.

Hugin’s taken the day off and I have this incredible urge to pounce into the bedroom and wake him up. There is adventure to be found today, and the part of need that needs to explore is itching to find it. Sitting and waiting on this chair has become a battle of wills, this little imp keeps whispering that the days is a wasting, that there is much to see. He looks so peaceful lying there all snuggled up under the mound of blankets on our bed that I would feel terrible if I woke him. Maybe if I made coffee? Maybe that would get him up, or maybe if something came crashing down in the kitchen. That wouldn’t be construed as rudely waking him up would it? I mean things fall in the kitchen all the time don’t they?