The people across the alley let their dang dog out at three thirty this morning. She had to stand outside my bedroom window, hollering at him, when he ran into my yard to chase my sleeping cats.
Well, three thirty is too close to my regular wake up hour, anyway. I couldn't go back to sleep.
So, here I am: too much coffee on a tender, empty stomach. yuck.
I'll TRY to nap a little. I have a not-slept-enough head ache.
I've been making the mistake of trying to waken myself with stimulants: coffee and cigarettes. This, of course, just makes me feel worse. It's my old, I gotta get to the factory mentality.
I have a meeting with one of the people I'm apologizing to at 1 pm.
I need to go to the bicycle shop which, I think, doesn't open 'til ten or eleven.
I have nothing to do this early, chore wise. And I'm too befuddled to study, etc.
So, I guess I'll nibble a banana, and some cheese, and try to snuggle back to sleep, if my acidy stomach will allow. oof.
PLEASE, don't take responsibility for your OWN life, so I can't take responsibility for MINE!
When was the last time you heard me, screaming outside your bedroom window in the middle of the night, because I'm too irresponsible to control my dog?!
Dang urban hillbillies!
I have a cat butt to scratch; I'm outtie.
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