The futon on which I sleep is laid on top of a largish Kazakh rug, which is laid on the bare wooden floor. As the pile of the rug runs downward, from head to foot, the futon slowly slides downward, as well. With it, the rug also slides down the floor, but at a much slower rate. The more I toss in my sleep, the greater the downward movement. When I wake up, I can tell at once how peacefully I have slept by the distance my futon has traveled down the rug. And so, I have to pull the futon upward every few days, and I have to do the same with the rug every few weeks. Otherwise, the futon and the rug would travel all the way to the opposite wall of my bedroom. Even though these adjustments are already a part of my routine, and even though they do not take almost any of my time, they still annoy me a tiny bit. Except when my beloved is with me, I hasten to add. When we are together, the more our two futons or the rug need to be pulled upward, the more pleased I am.