I just can't shake the feeling that something is off these days—but everything I check is in place. My wife, sleeping soundly next to the indentation where I just was. Our dogs, whimpering lightly in their slumber by the kitchen door. Our son, snoring fitfully in his bedroom, having recently, proudly graduated from crib to red race-car bed. Still, something rings strange, doesn't quite fit with the proper order of things. But nothing’s amiss. Relieved, I settle back into bed, thankful for the many-tentacled being that blots out the sun half of each day, allowing us to sleep, to dream.