I remember as a child my father would come exhausted and lie on the area rugs for ten or fifteen minutes. He’d tell me to wake him up and I’d crawl on his belly, or through his snore, pick up an eyelid and watch his hazel eye roll backwards into the socket. He’d whisper still half-asleep, five more minutes, and I’d say “No Dad. Now!” I couldn’t understand why he liked to sleep on the silk Persian rugs.

Now I can. For one, it doesn’t matter where you sleep when you’re really tired. For two, sleeping on hand knotted area rugs ain’t half bad. When you walk into the living room and you feel silk fibers between your toes it makes you want to curl into a ball and close your eyes.For three, those rich colors envelop you and make you feel like you’re home. It’s like an oriental den. Kind of.

So now I’m really sleepy. I stayed out late last night, doing who knows what. First thing I do when I get home is take after the old man: lie down on the area rugs and hit the hay. I just wish I had someone to wake me up.