Assorted snores and hacks emanate from the lower bunks, masking the family's midnight footsteps as they climb the ladders to Squaw One’s upper bunks. After successfully avoiding the domino line of pill bottles, they sleep away their travels, while empty tummies and dry throats bemoan Mother's choice to bypass Safeway. Awakened by thirst, Sarah (traditionally a bottom bunk occupant) throws her legs over the bed’s edge, and drops five feet onto the creaking wooden floor. A congregation of nightgown-clad old women promptly gather around her to fret. Quelling concerns of broken bones, Sarah rejoins her still-warm blankets, thirsty as ever.
(Happy Birthday Sarah!)
