Of Logs and Leaves

As the Beloved brough me my chai latte this morning he said: "If you say anything about my snoring in your Blip today I will let them all know you snore too!"
I muttered something about 'sinuses' and 'allergies', but I come from a family of notorious snorers, and I don't doubt I'm sawing logs on quite a few nights. I'm lucky the man next to me doesn't usually wake up :)

My mam and pap spend most of their married lives accusing eachother of snoring. They both denied doing anything but sleeping quietly, apart from being woken up by the other. When I was in my teens I once taped (with a taperecorder. I am so showing my age here!) my sleeping dad. Just to have evidence. He, ofcourse, denied it was him. Like I was in the habit of creeping into strange men's bedrooms to record them snoring. My mam thought it was hilarious.
And then one day my brother took her, me and one of my sisters to Paris, and we shared a room with her. The next morning, after a sleepless night, we informed her we'd be surprised if there were any trees left in the city. Good lord.
My father felt vindicated :)

This has really nothing to do with this leaf that I found in the back garden, except that I mentioned Parisian trees two sentences up. And I felt like sharing.
Besides, my day was utter pants (I'm trying to introduce that here, but people look at me weird. Or weirder than usual.) so I don't want to write about that.

Thank you all, for all comments on my hostas yesterday. I love it when a photo I'm quite proud of gets so many responses :)