Last night, I slept like a rock --a very awake and alert rock. Granted, that sort of thing is considerably odd for a rock, but if you're a human being trying to impersonate a sleeping rock, it's difficult to attain true rock status when one is tossing and turning and, worst of all, making noise. After all, rocks, as a rule, are generally pretty quiet and unassuming, and if you've ever been out for a walk and maybe stumbled upon a boulder saying things like "damn! Why can't I sleep? What freakin' time is it? Maybe I should just go play Tomb Raider until I pass out," I'd imagine you'd be pretty freaked out.
I'm a little off my noggin today, it seems. I blame it on lack of sleep, not nearly enough coffee in my system, and the fact that this frigid weather is starting to gnaw upon the tiny shreds of what sanity remains. When I dragged my carcass out of bed this morning, it was three degrees outside. Since then, it's lept up to a balmy seven degrees.
So far, today, the only plan is to write for a bit. Then, once I finish that, I'm thinking of heading out on a two-block death march of ice and suffering to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription of pain killers to keep the inevitable chomping ache of frostbite at bay.
Yes. My life seems to have turned into a freakin' Jack London novel. I'm the whiny guy who's about to freeze to death while the bears look on and drool.
Maybe I should get a dog. As it stands, I've got a cat who, up until today, actually acted like a dog. However, for the first time in ten years, he actually used the litter box rather than go outside to deposit a load somewhere on the neighbor's property.
That can't be a good sign.
Posted By Dan to The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind at 1/23/2008 09:01:00 AM