My bed loves me.

It doesn't like me to leave it in the morning. I know this because it whispers sweet nothings as I lay there, just moments before the screaming red blare of the alarm takes hold of my senses. My goose-down pillow with its flannel pillow case cradles my head lovingly and soothingly. Perfection.

The fog outside is like a voyeur, pressing against the window pane. I can feel it watching, waiting for me to stumble from the enveloping comfort into the cold, forbidding bathroom to wait for the shower. Why would I want put on a peep show for the weather outside? I wouldn't. That's sick. Sicko fog.

My bed loves me. I will stay where I am ALL DAY LONG.

...*sigh*...