Rock Around the Body Clock

By nature, I'm an early  bird.  Never mind the fact that I have to be at work at 6:45 am...I just normally wake up before the roosters.  I also go to bed earlier than most adults -- typically by 8:30 pm.  Last night I enjoyed a rousing evening of Scrabble, laughter, food, and drink with some girlfriends and my head didn't hit the pillow until midnight. Thankfully, I don't work today, but guess what?  My body wouldn't allow me to sleep past 5 am.  Why didn't my body clock come equipped with a snooze button?

Admittedly, I am a super-fan of structure and routine, but every once in a while, I'd like the option of "sleeping in" until 6am.  I'm hoping that around noon, I'll look something like this:

...but for now, bring on the coffee!!

Cosmo - 1, Sleep - 0

Sleepless in Catladyland

Insomnia: I haz it.  It's not that I don't adore watching late night Slap-Chop infomercials or aren't endlessly entertained by the roommates' shenanigans on reruns of Three's Company (in 30+ years, Mr. Furley's fashion sense hasn't improved ...in case you were wondering), I just know that around 3:00 this afternoon, I'll hit a wall.  And that wall will look nothing like my cozy bed.

Do you know who never has trouble with insomnia?  My cats.  Do you think they are up with me at 2:30 am, offering any sympathy or snuggles?  Nope.

Phoebe's flopped

Saffy's sacked

Cosmo's crashed

The least they could do is whip me up another pot of coffee....is that too much to ask?

I Just Wanted to Write About Cats

Admittedly, I'm primarily a right-brain thinker. Linear details and tech-talk often send me into fits of frustration, to the point where I hang a metaphorical "gone fishing" sign from my fatigued frontal lobe.

This tends to present a challenge when I set about to create something like...a website, for instance. Understanding the processes of domain registrations, domain redirection, hosting, and e-mail addresses have vexed my weary noggin for weeks. And, silly me, I'm embarking on a second website. It's a good thing I like lists because I have pages of passwords, changed passwords, e-mail addresses, usernames, and registry codes.

With time and the occasional expletive, it all seems to be coming together and my brain is learning to lean left, albeit languidly. I never wanted to be a techie...I just wanted to write about cats.

The Urge to Merge

One of my biggest pet peeves is aggressive driving -- I call these drivers Road Bullies. They tail you, cut you off, don't let you merge, and basically act like the road is their personal NASCAR track. Not only do I feel aggravated by their inconsiderate behind-the-wheel etiquette, I feel a touch of pity for them because I know that their bully-behavior is nothing more than a metaphor for their lives in general. I have a feeling that these individuals have a serious superiority complex and need a swift kick in the tailpipe from Miss Manners.

Why am I ranting about Road Bullies? Because today I was bullied by someone I'll call Red Truck. I was driving in the fast lane of a highway (ten miles over the posted speed limit) and suddenly this giant red Dodge Ram was digging its horns into the rear of my little car. I couldn't move to the other lane because there was no opening and I refused to drive any faster. Red Truck was obviously angry and tailed as close as he possibly could before he was actually mating with my car. I'm serious -- there was some serious heavy petting going on.

Fast forward a mile or two and I saw signs that the left lane would soon be closing, due to construction. We would have to merge. I was ready to get out from under Red Truck anyway so I welcomed the impending merge. I turned on my blinker just in time to prevent Red Truck's head explosion and looked for an opportunity to switch lanes. A very kind and polite car I'll call Blue Oldsmobile slowed down and I shifted to join the slower traffic next door. Red Truck gunned his giant engine (compensating for something, perhaps?) and zipped past me so he didn't have to merge until the every last minute. As we approached the final cut-off, where the two lanes officially become one, the do-or-die moment in merge-world, I saw him frantically trying to move to my lane. Red Rover, Red Rover, Red Truck can't get over -- no one was letting the Road Bully into the game. As I zoomed past, I saw him in my rear-view mirror, his angry blinker pulsing to the beat of the happy tune on my radio.

Dear Red Truck,
Wherever you are tonight, I send you peace, love, and some chamomile tea to help you relax. Life is too short -- enjoy the ride, Red Truck.

Love, Sweet Justice