I am too old to go out at night and too old to stay up late.
This is just the fact of the matter.
Too old and too set in my ways.
I haven't slept well in days. The dreams- well- YOU just try and tow a huge house full of people down a road because Hurricane Joe is coming. See how easily you rest.
So it's Sunday morning. I was just mean to my husband. I said, "I suppose you want breakfast."
He said, "You say that so sweetly."
I said, "I don't want to cook breakfast."
He said, "I'll eat cereal."
There you go.
Lines. Lines. Lines. Gotta study lines.
I bought pansies. Need to plant some. I bought some more lettuces in plant-form. Need to plant them.
It's like...hot here. All night I kept waking up uncomfortably hot. God- what's up with my hormones? Then I finally realized I was sleeping under a doubled down comforter and a down blanket and a cotton blanket and a sheet. The sheet would have done.
It's so warm that it feels like maybe the wisteria and dogwoods missed their cue. Like- it's summer but the flowers never came out. The leaves are still somewhere down the road. Maybe at the Waffle House, eating breakfast, unaware that it's way past time for them to be here, finishing up their hash browns and reading the Opinion section of the paper.
The dogs won't quit scratching. Lis said I need to have an auction here at the blog and sell them. I told her no one who reads this blog would buy my dogs, that in fact, I couldn't possibly pay anyone who reads this blog enough to take my dogs. Let me know if you feel this is not true.
I want to simplify my life. I have no idea what this means nor how to go about it. On the surface, this is about as simple a life as you can lead here in the 21st century America. Well let me tell you something- chickens still need hay and feed and water. Gardens still need weeding and watering and planting and pulling. Grandchildren still need tending. And I don't care if you're starring on Broadway or down the road at the local community theater- you still gotta learn those lines, put on make-up, be there for call-time, do your best. Plus, with community theater you have to do your own costumes.
What does this all mean, Mr. Natural?
Simplify, simplify, simplify.
What does that mean, Mr. Natural?
Don't mean shit. You gonna stay alive, be alive, keep on truckin' (haha! how many of you are getting any of these references?) you can't be sitting in a meadow or on a beach and calming your neurons all day long. Nah. You have to make sure you have toilet paper and clean clothes and that there's milk in the refrigerator. You have to buy soap and razors and lipstick. Yes. Yes you do. Okay, maybe not the lipstick.
You have to get a good night's sleep.
I'm too old.
Hey leaves- get your fucking asses over here. Pay your bill at the Waffle House (cash only!) and do your job. Time's a wastin'!
I think it's going to be Hurricane Season in about three minutes. Yeah. It's THAT warm. And muggy.
Damn. It's almost eleven o'clock. Too late for breakfast. Maybe I'll make my husband some lunch. Brunch. Whatever.
Good morning. Happy Sunday.
No thank-you. I'll be going to bed early.