musk ox fur sleep

On days like this, after nights like last night, there's nothing I want more than to be injected with a heavy-duty sedative. Jam it right in my thigh, set a course to rocket me straight to dreamless fairy-tale princess sleep, and I'm not waking up until...well, I might not ever wake up. The problem is I drink too much coffee at night, and my muse visits me in the wee hours (she sleeps in, too). A nest of musk ox fur would be nice; it comes to mind because it's the softest, warmest substance I've ever felt. It has to be warm - they survived the Ice Age in those coats, and they survive Arctic winters in them. I gathered some some  from the fences at the Wildlife Conservation Center a couple of weekends ago. It's the underfur, the Qiviut (pronounced "kiv-ee-ute") that is woven into the softest, perfectly brown yarn.  It reminds me of Ann-Margret's nubby brown sweater in the "How Lovely to be a Woman" scene of Bye Bye Birdie.  When I gathered it up I told Gary it was for Xander's nature table, but really it's for me. I pretend I have a whole nest of it, and that I go to a little lavender meadow with that nest and bury myself in the middle, and sleep until the next Ice Age. 

Enter rolling sleep

in a nest of musk ox fur

laced with lavender 

Visual references: 

Musk Ox

 Qiviut - finished then raw

Ann Margret, "How Lovely to Be a Woman"

(the sweater makes it's debut at 52 seconds in...)


*This post is laced with sleep, I'll be back to normal...later.*