beep beep beep get offa my seat

I am one of those quasi-morning people. The very act of getting up
isn’t something I so much enjoy, as much as I enjoy laying down, that
is. But once I am up, I try to make the best of it, it’s a brand new
day, new things can get fucked up, new people can hate and/or love you,
and things are changing. I am quietly bored with the perpetual hell
that is an unmoving life, so I dig that reality changes for us all each
and every day. How pretty is that, a new start timer, and stop timer
for every end. Sometimes the days bleed together, like patches on the
same quilt, overlapping, slapping, winding in circles and pulling down,
only to be lifted up by that surprise wind.

E, on the other hand, is still in denial that he has to be
anywhere before noon. He wakes up snuggly and delicious and proceeds to
get a little more ornery as the morning goes on, joshing me about
spilling my coffee, callin me crazy. We get along famously most of the
time, and I feel a real desire to understand and know him, good and
bad, and all in between parts too. Most of the time I just don’t have
the patience or desire to be that interested. I usually figure
something at some point might smear into me and make pretend that it is
gonna work, but I rarely put conscious effort into other people. It’s
that whole expectations thing, something I still sit back on when I
think my “expect the worst and hope for the best” mantra. Changing that
has taken some time, and I certainly reside far from a perfect being,
but I am whole complete, not missing anything too important–spite my
sanity at points.

My throat thing has been elevated to bronchitis level at the
pharmacy, where even the employees were on anti-biotics. I am not so
much a fan of that shit, so I will stick with herbal remedying to keep
me happy and satisfied.

Weary thoughts on a cold day: I have to buy my dog dog booties
because she inevitably tries to lift up her two diagonal paws and
starts shaking in protest when I try to take her out. She has been
spoiled by my vacation in Bermuda temperature inside. So I will be one
of those gay dog people (I really hate dog people, did I mention) who
straps on booties to go outside for a walk. Maybe I will go uber gay
and buy her a little sweatshirt too. As long as one of the dog dumbos
doesn’t comment on the fact that my dog is dressed in clothing fit for
a 2 year old, all should be well. I must practice my “fuck off” for

those days. It might even be satisfying to tell one of those whackos to

fuck off.
***********************************************************************

Oh, and the terror suspects they are looking for in Boston I don’t think were going to attack in Boston. Just a hunch….

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