Tuesday wols are doing burrowing wrong

Gah. Something in the air, or my bed, or the cats, or my brain, is stuffing with my sleep cycles. I can't seem to get to sleep before 11.30 or 12 regardless of how early I go to bed, and the 8am alarm is hoiking me out of very deep sleep so that I'm a zombie for the first half of the morning. Over the weekend I slept until 10am on both Saturday and Sunday, which is UNHEARD-OF! I haven't done that since I was a teenager. (And, yes, the probable reaction to that degree of uninterrupted sleep from those of you who rejoice in offspring does make me feel faint guilt. Very faint.)

At any rate, I'm a little frayed, and defaulting, as is my wont, to wols. I identify very strongly right now with the desire to burrow into a small, enclosed structure and curl up to hide. These were sent to me, as usual, by first_fallen, and there are more cute photos in the article if you can bring yourself to ignore the lame puns.