House is profoundly quiet, a quiet broken only by occasional airplanes passing overhead or wind gusts. Until, that is, one of the boxers behind me starts howling in his sleep and whorfling after … what? Bunnies? Boars? Glorious martyrdom? (No … I think not, on the last. Boxers aren’t prone to martyrdom, regardless of how many vestal virgins populate the place. Wait … I take that back (and take back the virgins too) because PILLOWS would tempt them. Big, fluffy, comfortable, sink-in-to-your-chin-type pillows. There you have it … Grendel is worfling after a place for him in martyrdom-land.) Now, I wonder, is there is a spot for me …?