Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

My ma is a stickler for making the bed in the morning. I am not. When she comes to my house and my bed is not made, she commiserates about how she didn't raise me this way. Blah, blah blah. I figure DUDE! I'm getting back in, right? Best be the way I like it!

Anyhow, you can imagine her surprise (after I dropped off Rox one day) when she went to make the bed and found this:

My girl, sleeping with her head on the pillow, snuggling in the sheets.

She was very tired. She needed a rest on a soft bed on which to rest her weary head.

And of course she needed to feel the breeze from the fan on her poor little tummy. My poor girl is very, very hard done by.

In the end, my ma decided to forgo her bed-making, and let a sleeping dog lie.