If I get up at eight-thirty in the morning, I have a very productive day.
If I get up at eight-thirty in the morning, I have not slept very much. I don't know what did it. The sunlight was very clear and cold and bright; I lay in bed for a half-hour to see if I could fall back asleep and when I couldn't even with a cat curled against my hip, I got up and started doing things. I'm sure it's healthy for me, but boy, did I hit a wall around five o'clock. Having spent my morning working and my afternoon running more errands than I planned, I think I am going to spend my evening on the couch, ideally with one or more cats, maybe watching whatever is on TCM (I may die bitter about FilmStruck), maybe reading this collected book of Saki which was my third-night Hanukkah present from my parents. I have actually not read very much of his fiction beyond "Tobermory" and "Sredni Vashtar." The latter was the eponym of one of my mother's cats. I heard it for years as "Shredney," which as a name for a small cat given to fierce clawing made a lot of sense to me.
I had several things I wanted to write about, but I do not think any of them are going to happen. I really feel like someone wiped my brain off. Maybe I will just spend my evening on the couch, stop.
If I get up at eight-thirty in the morning, I have not slept very much. I don't know what did it. The sunlight was very clear and cold and bright; I lay in bed for a half-hour to see if I could fall back asleep and when I couldn't even with a cat curled against my hip, I got up and started doing things. I'm sure it's healthy for me, but boy, did I hit a wall around five o'clock. Having spent my morning working and my afternoon running more errands than I planned, I think I am going to spend my evening on the couch, ideally with one or more cats, maybe watching whatever is on TCM (I may die bitter about FilmStruck), maybe reading this collected book of Saki which was my third-night Hanukkah present from my parents. I have actually not read very much of his fiction beyond "Tobermory" and "Sredni Vashtar." The latter was the eponym of one of my mother's cats. I heard it for years as "Shredney," which as a name for a small cat given to fierce clawing made a lot of sense to me.
I had several things I wanted to write about, but I do not think any of them are going to happen. I really feel like someone wiped my brain off. Maybe I will just spend my evening on the couch, stop.
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