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July 18, 2011
Although my bed is less than a literal hop, skip, and pirouette away from my sofa, I consider it a delicious treat to "go to sofa" instead of to bed. I anticipate it with the same quality of glee I used to experience when my sister and I would create the ultimate fort underneath her trundle bed, where the only thing missing was a refrigerator just big enough to accommodate a couple of cans of Tab, or when, on a car ride home at night, I'd pretend to be dead asleep so my father would carry me inside the house.