Hugging the Sofa

I stare with squinted eyes, trying to focus, trying to make sure that the two cards in my hand really are spades, and that at least one of them is an ace.

It can be difficult at times to think clearly and make the right play, especially when it is late, and doubly especially when you've lost count of the glasses of scotch you've enjoyed that evening. Inevitably, at this point in the game, you and/or everyone else at the table go all-in. Cards are burned, flopped and turned. Rivers come. Curses are sworn. Brightly colored chips move in a circuit around the table.

Once home, usually late, I may smell of sweat, or smoke, or booze. Likely, I will smell of all three, and may choose for the benefit of all to sleep on the sofa, the futon or the floor.

Eventually, however, the morning comes, the sun pops up, and the girl pops out of bed. If this happens to be the groggy morning after a poker game, then it is probably Sunday. And if it is Sunday, and as long as I'm already in the living room, I might as well let the missus sleep in, and entertain my daughter myself.

Now, as many of you may guess, I'm not what you would call a "morning person," less so with a hangover. So, naturally, and frequently, "morning entertainment" takes the form of me snoozing intermittently on the sofa, between taking sips of tepid water, and pushing the DVR "play" button to unleash yet another mind-numbing children's television program.

Not, however, Elmo. We've tried Elmo. I cannot abide the falsetto-voiced red shag puppet.

No, the choices are essentially down two two.

First, Dora.

Second, Blues Clues.



The choice is essentially mine, as she will willingly watch either. So, here is my dilemma...

When one is hung well over, following a bender, a cigar and unfortunate poker losses, the light of a candle and the buzz of a mosquito can prove to be unbearable at 7:00 in the morning. Dora, therefore, with the high-octave bilingual stage-voice projection, flashing colors and constant flurry of Nintendo-like activity is simply torturous.

Dora, however, is longer than Blues Clues, which means the chance to catch approximately 6 more minutes of precious sleep between episodes.

Sleep, that is, if I can shut out the multi-cultural din.

Then there is Steve (or Joe) and their dog, Blue. Short soft strains of lap steel guitar, soft muffled murmurs and squeaks from the animated cast, and the soft-spoken boyish host, all make the show very easy to sleep through. Problem is, Blues Clues episodes are short. Too short! No sooner have I fallen into REM, than I am awoken by a demanding daughter wishing to watch more...

On the balance, I think I have to go with Blue and Steve. Dora just hurts way too much at that time of day. And while I have to rouse myself to enough consciousness to flip the channel more frequently, at least Blue won't make my headache any worse.