I don’t know

Published July 24, 2016 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I am not sleeping well. My insomnia is a by product of that time my head blew up. The chemical changes to my brain goo has made it damn near impossible to have a relaxing nights sleep.

I hate to whinge and whine because I do have a lot to be grateful for. The disruption of my schedule, and chronic insomniacs must keep to a very strict schedule, is due to my trip to Durango, Colorado to see Actor Boy.

Actor Boy has a new job that he truly loves and he is happy and healthy, albeit it busy, and since I have the time, I went up to Durango to see him (There are many, many fun stories about the trip, but I will get those down for public consumption when I’m not feeling so stabby.)

I have gotten less than six hours of sleep per night since I have been back.  It’s starting to take its toll. I am exceptionally crabby and anyone who knows me is aware that I can indeed be a mean, vile Gorgon. Fortunately I have medication that helps.

Last night was one of those nights and I took a nap today. Well, I tried to take a nap, but my nap was fitful and I woke up freaking out; a little like the dog in the Foghorn Leghorn cartoon, you know when he gets paddled awake? Actually if I saw Leghorn strolling by right now I would blow his face off, or get in my car and run him down, because really? I’m just trying to get some rest.

I realize this sounds like my crazy manifesto. I am really tired and I woke up hot, vexed and melting down. The melting down may be due to the fact that it is 101 degrees outside and I got up for water and noticed that there were two cats looking at me forlornly. My sweet kitty Samantha and her archnemisis Frances were completely out of food and water.

This set me off slightly because I am not the only person who lives here and I have been mostly trying to sleep, so I haven’t taken an active cruise through the house, partially because I don’t want to have to look at my back yard and the crumbling back porch area; in my current state I may just break off a hunk of porch, drive over to EH’s home and stand next to his intact home and bonk the wall at low speed but steady intervals, just loud enough to interrupt his house’s regular rhythms. He now has three little boys, all under the age of three.  (I know,I can’t handle the karmic blow from fighting insomnia with insomnia.)

So back to the cats. Frances and Samantha and I have the same question. Why, on the hottest day of the year do they not have water or food? They don’t have thumbs and I know they have interacted with the Tall Boy and Batman today.  Why did they wait to show their sad kitty faces to me, adding another factor to my meltdown?

I guess they figured, “She’s already cranked up, we might as well take advantage of the momentum.”

So now we know.

A trip highlight. Batman is my boyfriend. I am pretty excited about that. Now if he only had cat food in his utility belt.

 

 

 

 

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