Everything's got a moral, if only you can find it.

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

- "He  Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven" by W.B. Yeats

So, W.B. Yeats writes some amazing poetry. I think he might be my favorite. Or possibly just one of my favorites. I think that one's dreams is the best one could possibly offer someone else. I guess that's sort of the point. Oh look at me being a literature major even in my time off.

Being home is still difficult. Dad is sick, mom is worried, and the family is barely functioning as usual. I am still missing my babies at school and it's making me sick with how much I can feel the lack of their presence. Oh well. C'mon Dormouse, just buck up and deal with it.

-The Dormouse