J’ever just hit the floor running from a dead sleep? I haven’t done it in years, until this morning. I’m comatose, and suddenly, a white, puffy puppy (we’re entertaining — and being entertained by — Drago, while BFF Kay and Bob are in Chicago for the weekend) jumps up and says, “OK, I’m ready — take me outside NOW!” *wagging tail thrumming body crazy miniature canine playful growl*
So I’m like whooooa, git up, and hit the carpet. Barefoot, even. And those who know me know I *never* walk about the house with no moccasins on. The Thriller must have noticed the bizarre state of things, too, because he said to me from the kitchen while I had dogs outside, “Good morning — I brought your phone downstairs.” HA. I’m rarely without that thing, either.
I’ve never been a person who “needs time” in the morning. I can get out of bed, go down and make coffee, and have a conversation if I need to. I like my quiet time, no doubt, but I don’t go all Linda Blair if someone needs to talk to me before 7 a.m. (Truthfully, I think the whole “Don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee” is a lame crutch; an excuse to be mean and get away with it.)
Speaking of time in the morning — gotta go make the best of it. Still much to do, and on today’s menu: choir music for school. Goin’ shoppin’, goin’ shoppin’…always fun with someone else’s money. Then there’s the Sunday Big Three tonight: True Blood, The Newsroom, and the premiere of the final season ( ) of Breaking Bad. Wahoo!