Amber leaves tomorrow

I cannot sleep, thinking about Liesl's dolls; right now I can see at least five doll arms and feet sticking out (or smushed against something ouchy) of her wooden toybox. Lookin' mighty uncomfortable. I cannot sleep with a clear conscience knowing that her dolls are out there, in the dark of night, suffocating and upside down or doing yoga or kama sutra and mutely crying out for help, while I'm resting here pleasantly and horizontally snuggled all warm and soft in a bed a few feet away. Must rearrange dolls so that they can breathe and then everything will be all right. All must breathe. Or sleep with me and my blankie. I mean, it's only logical.