Like many a babyboomer of my age, I go to sleep rather early during the fall and winter months. By about ten o’clock in the evening, I am ready for bed. I go to pee once or twice during the night, but I fall asleep as soon as I hit the sack once again. More often than not, I sleep until eight in the morning. On occasion, I stretch it till nine. Night after night, I sleep at least ten hours, and sometimes even eleven. No wonder my beloved calls me a bear. It is a bit different during the spring and summer months, though. I go to sleep around eleven o’clock, and I get up between seven and eight. During summer, I regularly spend an hour in bed in the afternoon, too, when it is the hottest. Day after day, I sleep around nine hours. Which is why my beloved calls me a bear only during the fall and winter months, when I sleep an hour or two longer than the rest of the year. Of course, bears go into hibernation only during the coldest periods of the year. One way or another, I sleep a lot. And I relish every hour of it, I must confess. As is known far and wide since times immemorial, peace is the best medicine (“Optimum medicamentum quies est,” March 11, 2014). Assuming you are concealed in a safe and sound burrow, there is no better way to skirt the abominations of this world.