Working the Night Shift

So, this is my morning...


If you were following my last blog post you know I was up working until 2:15 in the morning. Then teeth brushed and snoring logs by 2:17. BUT, I slept soundly until 9:40 this morning! Life is good.


So, then, snug and cozy in my warm bed with my cat near my pillow and my dog tucked at my hip, I remained put... and fell into a twitter wormhole. In a good way, though, since today twitter was full of happy thoughts. People are working on their writing, people are trying to understand how Christians could support Donald Trump, Donald Trump is down in the polls... you know, happy thoughts.


An hour later, I managed to get on with my day.


Fed the cat and the dog. Did all the morning bathroom basics. Studied the growing crop of zits eight daily hours of mask-wearing is creating in the dimples at the side of my mouth. Mini search for the ever elusive cell phone (it was literally on the counter right in front of me). Scan my 266 emails (they will have to wait). Then, food.


First, I nuked yesterday's left over coffee. That plan was discarded when I lifted the mug to sip and found a drowned fly carcass floating belly-up and looking like he'd died badly. Hey, could be worse, I could have found him AFTER a sip. So, that coffee got dumped and a whole new pot made.


Then, since last night after work at the coffee shop I stopped and picked up tortilla shells, I got inspired, and pulled out the fixings for breakfast quesadillas.





First, of course, I had to toss all the dead vegetables which I have not had a moment to cook this week. Remind me, why do I buy fresh veggies again? The spoils (literally) were a zucchini, two green peppers, a quarter head of cabbage, and a half empty bag of spinach. Still good: mushrooms, green onions, a different green pepper, and the essential part -- cheese.


So, I cooked, sipping fresh, hot coffee as I did so. Then, with plate in hand, I settled onto my sofa and snagged the laptop. I have one hour available before I must go to work for the evening. How best to make it count?


The cat, belly now full, has claimed his spot on the top of the sofa back beside me. The dog, now energized, has found her chewy toy and is shaking it for all she's worth.


It should be noted that at some point since Lily came to live with me, it became very evident to me that a playing dog is really practicing her kill skills. My dog would whiplash a victim to death. Right now, she is jumping up onto the seat of the couch, digging at the toy then shaking it like boys snapping a wet towel in a locker room. She tosses it up and jumps to retrieve it, and in general, wakes and annoys the sleeping cat. He then leaves in a huff.




Unfazed, Lily abandons her toy. Perhaps removing Sabertooth has been her master plan all along. Now, with the cat gone, she happily trots to her food dish in the kitchen, pockets kibble in her cheeks like a squirrel, and deposits breakfast on the living room floor at my feet where she happily crunches away.


And this is how a day in the life of this writer begins. You can't make this stuff up. Now, I have thirty minutes to apply makeup, cover up the zits, turn my sleep-deprived eye slits into something resembling normal-sized eyes, finish this awesome coffee (Starbucks Thanksgiving Blend) and hit the road with enough time left to stop for gas so Baby Car doesn't run dry en route. The good news though? Today is my Friday. TGIF!


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