Confessions of a One-Track Mind

Caffeine dilates blood vessels, did you know that? I'm sure that for years, my vessels were expanded to the max, which is why I now feel like my skull is imploding, because without caffeine, all my vessels have collapsed.

Yesterday, it was in the 90s---104 with the heat index. I slept from 5AM til 11AM, took a shower, took another shower, napped from 5PM til 8PM, showered again, watched the Olympic opening ceremonies, with another couple of showers---what, you think I'm kidding? I step into the shower, turn on the cold water (which isn't nearly cold enough), rotate a few times, exit and go on about my business, which is trying to get the maximum benefit of the three fans in my room. And lately, I've been doing that upwards of four times a day, because I either feel sticky or dizzy or both.

Anyway, opening ceremonies=awesome. Loved the bit with the Queen and James Bond and the corgis. Watched that, fast-forwarding through the commercials. I'm not usually a fan of musical theater, but this was intriguingly different.

Was in bed with lights out by 2AM, and was awake before 9. I've been up for a scant three hours, and I'm ready to crawl back into bed. After a shower....

What I *really* want is a bathtub that clears my hips, that I won't break my neck trying to get in and out of, cold water and a couple bags of ice.

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I'm trying to resync my sleep schedule, really I am. Especially since I'm scheduled for jury duty at fuck-me-o'clock next Monday.

So Sunday, as I mentioned, I slept til 1 in the afternoon. Was up all night, went to the food bank with Mb Monday morning, then running around: dog park, her bank, CVS drugs, Publix, Sallys Beauty Supply---I returned the stuff I got for the reunion, because $11---FPL pay station, then home,, where I put my stuff away and crashed. It was after 11AM, so I'd been up for about 22 hours. I used to be able to do stuff like that. These days, not so much.

Anyway, I slept til nearly 8PM, missed J's five phone calls telling me The Box from GK has arrived, and I've been up all night catching up on DVR'ed stuff. Looked at listings, was nonplused to see all the infomercials, until I realized it was 3AM. Guh.

Anyway, I'm going to get The Box from J around 10, and try to stay up as late as I can. If I miss primetime, so be it. Hopefully, by Wednesday, I'll have enough of my shit together to do some job hunting. (It makes such a bad impression when you're semi-comatose.)

I need to do some cooking...I got sausages, onions, corn, spinach/arrugala salad greens, a bunch of fruit---yay, mangoes!, strawberries, grapes and a whole pineapple---now to put them to work. With what I've got in the pantry, there's no reason that shouldn't feed me for most of the week.

I know I'm probably boring the hell out of y'all, but it's all I've got.

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Thanks to my thoroughly buggered sleep schedule, I haven't been to church the last few weeks because I've slept through my alarm. I think I've been once in the last two months, which is dreadful. Ordinarily, I *might* miss once in two months.

This morning, though, by the simple expedience of not going to bed, I was showered and dressed and ready to go. Then I went out and my car wouldn't start. Again. It was 10:45---service begins at 11---so I said sod it and went in, took my clothes off and went to sleep.

I really don't want to pop $60 on a new battery. Now, it may just be that it wasn't fully charged after last Monday, and if I stick it on the charger for a few hours and do some running around town, then maybe I can nurse it along. Hopefully.

Now to figure out what's for dinner....

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One thing that can be said for last week's Ordeal By Cat, it sure helped reset my sleep cycle. I was so utterly worn-out after five days and nights of caterwaling that I conked out around 10PM Saturday night. Was up a wee bit later on Sunday, but I have subsequently managed to be in bed with lights out by midnite, and up early. (Before 7:30AM?! OMG!)

Mb came by yesterday and dropped off my walking shoes. I'd left them at her place, but what with the toe and her busy schedule, it doesn't look like we'll be walking together soon. I need to get my act together and Just Do It. (Seven weeks?! Yikes!)

I was going to give her one of my belts, because she has some jeans that are falling off her. Tried it on, and it works on me. How/when did that happen? Also, my brown belt with studded rings, last worn to the Depeche Mode concert on the next-to last hole, is a couple holes farther down. My only regret is that my Little Earth belt, gotten back when I was 340-ish, now falls off my hips completely, and there's no way to fix it.

I wonder if my "disco-ball" dress...no, too flashy for the reunion, I think. Besides, I last wore that around 30 pounds ago, it would *have* to be taken in. *smile*

Have a good day, y'all!

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Now that it's OVER, I can tell y'all about the ordeal I've been going through the last few days. I didn't want to discuss it and get everyone stirred up, but now I can.

It started around Monday. I kept hearing a cat meowing. I thought it was outside my bathroom, no big deal. Cats love my yard, and as long as it's JUST naging around my yard, I really don't care, although we all know Fluffy is NOT a cat person.

As Tuesday rolled around, and I kept hearing this mewing, I went outside to take a look, and saw nothing. Nothing in the yard, nothing in the tree...but I could hear it---and my roof needs some holes repaired.

See where this is going?

Uh-huh. It had gotten under the eaves and managed to work its way inside the walls. There was only one way for that to happen---my two bathrooms are back-to-back, and there's a gap between them so the pipes will fit.

I could hear it behind the sink. Jason the Yard Guy was coming to mow on Wednesday, and I reckoned he could help me get the damned thing out. Don't look at me like that: I haven't had a decent night's sleep in five days. They call it caterwaling for a reason.

Jason came out, couldn't see it, because it was between the walls, doncha know, and surmised, because I'd also heard it behind the stove.... Okay, let me digress briefly for an architectural tour of Chez Fluffy. As I mentioned, the bathrooms are back-too-back. On the other side of the hall bath is the kitchen. Spanning the hall bath, which is somewhat larger than the master bath, is a standard cast-iron tub, circa 1958. Jason theorized that the beast was using the curved tunnel of the tub to migrate between the space behind my sink and the space beside my stove (which backs up to the hall bath).

He promised to come back with a humane trap the next day. Thursday. Except the Universe laughs when we make plans; his drainfield imploded, and he's been working on it ever since.

Meanwhile, the screaming banshee started in every time I used the toilet, every time I rolled over in bed---constantly. I wanted to wrestle this cougar down and twist its head off. I tried telling myself, "Oh, the poor thing is probably scared to death!", but honestly, after the first couple days and nights of sleep-deprivation, I didn't care.

Now, while I wanted to end it, I certainly didn't want it dying behind the wall. The occasional mouse is bad enough. And I know that dying of hunger takes longer than dying of thirst. So I did a little MacGyvering. There are chrome rings covering the holes where the water pipes from the sink taps go into the wall, and one of them is loose.

Using a funnel, two straws and some duct tape, I fashioned a spout I could use to pour water into
the gap between the walls. My compliments to whoever put that wall up---I've poured at last a gallon in there, and not had it leak.

Jason is still busy with his own woes, but he sent a friend of his to help me out. He dragged the stove away from the wall, confirmed that there is indeed access to the bathtub from the space behind the stove, and we could both hear Cat Kong.

I surrendered a car of tuna and dug out a little battery-operated fan to waft the succulent aroma in its direction. Jason's friend is more of a cat person than I am. He sweet-talked it to the open can and snagged it.

This ferocious beast, this mountain lion, Cat Kong...might weigh all of a pound, and half of that would be fuzz. It was TINY. HOW could anything that small make so much noise for so long?!

I gave Jason's friend a $10 bill I'd intended for the collection plate. He earned it. The Universe will understand. He took the wee beastie with him, in a box, with the rest of the tuna. As it departed, it was eating with single-minded determination, punctuated with little grunts. It was absolutely adorable, and I've never been so glad to wave good-bye as I was to that box!

I'm really glad I didn't have to take a baseball bat to the wall, which was my back-up plan.

Now I'm going to catch a nap before heading over to J's this evening. Sweet, silent night!

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I didn't actually get to sleep last night til after midnight. Then my eyes popped open around 4:30 and refused to let me go back to sleep. Swell.

That did give me a chance to get somewhat caught up on my DVR trove. Yesterday's Adam-12s (two eps back-to-back) were both from 1974/75*. One had a female!police!officer! riding with Reed because Malloy was filling on for Mack, who was busy on assignment elsewhere. She was played by JoAnne Pflug, one of those 70s names I haven't heard in ages. Lots of chauvinism and having to prove herself. Someday, I'm going to do some Adam-12 meta on then and now. It's coming; I can feel it.

The second ep featured Reed partnered with a rookie (again, Malloy was subbing for Mack...wait, that just sounds wrong), and I yelped when I recognized the kid as a baby-faced, 24 y.o. Mark Harmon. That's easily the youngest I've ever seen him, and he didn't even sound like I'm used to. According to IMDb, that was only his third acting credit, after Emergency and something called Ozzie's Girls.

I suspect there's an afternoon nap in my future, if not sooner.

o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o

* Depending on whether you believe the copyright date on the credits (1974), or IMDb (1975).

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I remember an episode of "The Flintstones from a million years ago, where the gang thought Fred had some kind of sleeping sickness, and they had to keep him awake for 24 hours, because if he fell asleep, he'd never wake up. (Except it was actually Dino who was sick, and he could sleep all he wanted---but I digress.)

Right now, I'm feeling rather Fred-like. Over the last few weeks in particular, my sleep schedule has run amok, to the point where "bedtime" has been around noon, and I sleep til evening. I managed to shift it around a little yesterday, to the point where I woke up before 7AM today. Now, I'm endeavoring to stay awake until 10PM or thereabout.

At the moment, my brains have the higher functions of a bowl of custard. I want to get horizontal and snooze, to hell with how out-of-sync I am with the rest of the world. I crave sleep. NOW.

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The foot is definitely better; at the risk of TMI, it isn't oozing any more. Mb, bless her, has just dropped off some Neosporin. Now, I can put a bandage over my sore spot. That means I can wear shoes, which means I can go places and get things done. (Because of where it is, I need cushioning between me and the shoe.)

For the last 24 hours, I haven't had it bandaged just wandering around the house, partly because of the lack of Neosporin---taking the dressings off kept pulling the scab loose. It's tender if the sheets hit it, but not screamingly painful. I'd call that progress.

I haven't been to bed yet---SO screwed up! meaning I'm liable to be doing a midnight Wally World run. And god knows about the library books. Not today, that's for sure. I'm at that so-tired-I'm-falling-over-but-can't-cleep stage. Not driving anywhere like this....

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Went to bed (Mb's) and slept an astonishing nine hours under a quilt in glorious air. Just woke up. I apparently slept thru Mb coming in, taking a shower, and dressing to go out. She went, and came back with Bunny, who was here when I wandered happily back to the living room to discover how LATE it is.

SO comfortable. No clue what we're doing this afternoon, but I suspect eventual WalMart.

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Was in bed with the lights out by midnight. Took a little while to actually fall asleep, but wasn't lying awake staring at theceiling for hours, either. Woke around 4:30 (bladder), took a while to get back to sleep again, but I did, and slept til 8:59.

Had some very odd dreams. The oddest was something based off Criminal Minds, where the unsub was going around throwing acid on people who did things like littler, spit on the sidewalk, not clean up after their dogs, etc. He was in an Art Deco building, and starting to spiral out of control and caused a panic.

Meanwhile, the BAU was on a case where the only way to draw the killer out was for Reid to get onstage at some kind of fair, and do a magic act. He was selecting a variety of silk flowers that had psychological implications, and turned down a hideous pre-made bouquet offered by the brother-in-law of the carnival owner, which was going to offend him and cause a crisis, because he was the one they were looking for.

And now I have to get my ass in gear and get out of here.
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Despite only 5 hours of sleep Saturday night, despite not having had my usual Sunday afternoon nap yesterday, I *still* haven't been to bed. I tried, but sleep eluded me, and I finally gave up around 4, since Mb was going to call at 6---and 2 hours sleep would've been worse than none at all.

She and I have already been to the food pantry and back. In slightly less than an hour, Endeavor will be lifting off on her final mission. I've set a timer so I can turn on the TV for news coverage, grab my camera and scamper outside to watch.

Only one more launch remaining after today. I was at KSC for the very first shuttle launch, back in 1981. More than half my life ago! I feel so bad for the people who've worked at the Cape for decades. The ones from the shuttle program are being laid off, so it'll be a skeleton crew out there to launch satellites, but nothing manned until the space program goes commercial. This is going to be really rough on the local economy.

After the launch, I will probably crawl into bed and be comatose for a few hours. Unless I get a third wind, or something....

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I've spent most of the last 24 hours in air, it's lovely. The dogs have been furry angels, the cat comes and goes, the ducks are...feathered.

I had the lights off at midnight and slept for seven hours solid, got up early, went out intending to get a couple things from the store...ended up detouring and doing something I haven't done in ages---I went to a yard sale. At least, that's what they were calling it---it was, in fact, being held n a storage unit.

I spent a *total* of $4, for which I got four books, an interesting suede and sheepskin tote and a tropical floral bedspread (full). The books are a treasury of household hints---recent, but done in the style of the 50s. A Grange cookbook, probably from the 50s. And the piece-de-resistance, a big hardcover book of cars from the 50s, which I saw and snatched. The final book is on runes, it's going to AI, cos she's into that stuff.

Hit Publix and WalMart (because there are some things I will NOT pay Publix prices for), came back to the house, watched Overhaulin', had brunch, went upstairs and took a nap. A three-hour nap. Which I wasn't intending, because now I'll be up all night. Swell.

I must've needed it, though, because I had a LOT of REM, some of which I even remember. There was something about Kat down-sizing, and GK was helping her. Instead of the middle-class mobile home she actually lived in, she was in a grand house with a lot of antiques. Part of the dream dealt with some Murano glass sculptures that a gay couple had bought, and we had to get it out to their truck. They were carrying the life-sized glass alligator while I brought up the rear with a smaller piece, some kind of snake or sea serpent.

GK had also rearranged the foyer with a bunch of maple storage cubes being used to display a lot of old classic books. There was an ivory and gold bedroom set that I was lusting after, but wasn't sure it would fit in my room. Two guys came in, young and shifty---they were looking for some money that was supposedly stashed in the house. They were half my age, but I managed to catch them and throw them down a flight of stairs.

There was something else about books---I remember seeing a row of blue Hardy Boys bindings---but I don't know what was going on with that one. Three hours...I know I dreamed more than that.

Going over to J's in a little while for movie night. Am going to try to hook her on Justified. Wish me luck!
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I just got off the phone with PJ, who wanted to know if I could pet-sit Thurs-Fri-Sat of this week, to which I gleefully said YES. The thought of 48 hours of A/C gave real enthusiasm to my tone. (The thought of having a few extra dollars that would take me to a movie or two didn't hurt, either. I want to see Thor and Fast Five, and they both sound like movies best seen on the big screen with Surround Sound.)

Fortunately, since it's a short stay, I won't need nearly as much stuff as I would for a whole week. A change of clothes, some schmatta to lounge around the house in, the laptop and I'm set. I'm already looking forward to their lovely large guest room with the silky lotion on the bedside table, their big-screen TV, well-stocked kitchen, and of course, their critters, which will include Rigel (dog of a friend who's going with them)---so I'll have lots of puppy love for a few days.

I'll have to let Mb know so she doesn't call those days. Bless her heart, she called me this morning at 8...I crawled out of bed, chirped my thanks, went and tinkled, crawled *back* into bed and slept for two more hours. After 20+ years in telephone customer service, I can sound perky in my sleep, easily.

Then I napped for two hours this afternoon. Gah. This is not working. Yet. Positive thinking!
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We're getting rain, which is welcome after several consecutive weeks of sunshine. I'm not complaining about sunshine, since the temps have been mostly in the 70s. But it's been very dry, and they're talking about the danger from wildfires, so...rain is good.

I'm trying to get my sleep schedule somewhat normal---I'm still not over my interrupted sleep on Saturday---didn't sleep at all last night. Went to the food bank early, came home, caught five hours and still feel like refried shit. Hopefully, though, I'll be out for the count by midnight tonight.

I've been lusting after a tablecloth I saw on eBay. Granted, it's not everybody's cup of tea, but I like orange. And I think it would look great centered on my round dining table over a solid green cloth I have. (Of course, it would help if said table wasn't a foot deep with stuff....) What do you think?

I need to get cracking on my CAYN WIP...that's less than a week away. My neurons aren't firing, though, and I know I'd only frustrate myself with Fried Brain Syndrome if I attempted it.

Must not nap...must not nap....

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What does it say about me when the dropdown for tags beginning with "eb" are ebay and ebola?!

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After church, WalMart, where I finished reading "The Last Olympian". Yes, it's tacky of me, I know, I own it---but there's a massive waiting list at the library, so I've worked my way through it in three sessions over the last week, and afterward went and picked up a couple things, so they ARE getting my business.

Came home and took a nap, as there was a brief thunderstorm coming through, making it good weather to snooze in. I woke a few minutes before six, had confused thoughts, first that I was surprised it was getting light so early in the morning, next that I'd be nice and early for the food pantry again. Then my brain rebooted and I realized it was still Sunday afternoon.

To heck with it, I said, and dozed back off. And had a dream: I was walking through New York City (or a dream fascimile thereof), and I was horrified to see a loose poodle in the middle of the street. Fortunately, the traffic had stopped for a light, and I called to him. I had a few nervous minutes when he detoured under a tall bus, but he finally came over to me. I grew up with a silver standard poodle; they are quite possibly the most intelligent dogs on earth and the threat to this one really was nightmarish.

He was charcoal gray, clipped in a natural style---clean face and feet and about two inches long all over---and wore a narrow black leather with flat goold diamond-shaped studs. (Yes, I usually DO dream in vivid detail---when I remember it.) The script on his nametag was very ornate---I wasn't sure if it said "Rudy" or "Buddy", but I'm going to say Rudy, because it's more of a poodlish name, whereas Buddy sounds more like a Lab or mixed breed.

There was a fancy gold chain with an open hook on it that I tried to attach to Rudy's collar so I could lead him. It took me a couple of minutes, and he almost wandered away once, but I rigged it so that I could hold the chain instead of trying to bend over and grab his collar and walk like that.

I woke up, and it was a little after 7---new game plan is to pull an all-nighter and hit the food bank early, since it worked so well last week. My sleep schedule is buggered; falling asleep between 4 and 5 and sleeping til 10 or 11. I've tried getting up early, didn't help, tried decaffeinating (involuntary, but still), didn't help.

It's the heat. I mean, right now, it's after midnight and it's still 87F. At this rate, by September, I'll be keeping vampire's hours....


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Thanks to conking out so early on Saturday---and the 12-hour nap---I seem to have reset my sleep schedule. I'm waking up at or a little before 9AM, which for me is pretty good.

Today Kat has a doctor visit and tomorrow she's down for an MRI. The doctor visit will be followed by numerous errands, oh joy.

I was over at her place yesterday to check on her meds, and it was something of a trial...I know it's beyond her control, but virtually everything she talked about was something she's told me about 2, 3, 4 times already.

It's like I'm mourning her, but she's still alive. I'm with her, and I miss her.

Maybe this is what all those customer service jobs were for---to develop my patience to the level where I can cope with this.

Okay, enough of this. Let's all talk about cheerful things before I start gnawing on my wrists. I took a closer look at the gift card Red gave me, and holy shit, that's a 5, not a 2. There's The Cleaner tonight, Leverage tomorrow and the season premiere for SPN on Thursday. I've managed to keep my sink emptied for a whole week. The weather is a tiny bit less hot. Tomorrow is 09/09/09---how cool is that?!

The C's live in a very nice neighborhood. Unfortunately, this well-manicured prettiness is achieved with the aid of lawn services, one of which started before 8 this morning. I have said before and will say again that anyone who undertakes yard work with power tools before 9 AM (at the absolute earliest!) should be flayed with their own week whacker.

Did the misery end there?

Oh no, my darlings, it did not. At 8:30, just as I was getting settled down from the invasion of the chlorophyl avengers, somebody opened the front door with a key and came in.

The C's have a cleaning lady. She wasn't scheduled to come while they were on their cruise last year, so I didn't expect her this week---much less in the middle of the night. (8:30 IS the middle of the night in Fluffy World.) Their house is what I'd consider immaculate---granted, I am easy to please---and IMO not in need of three hours worth of servicing.

I escaped to Schnauzerland by way of Publix---they are all much too fucking cheerful at Publix at 9 AM, btw---and am going to try to catch a couple more hours of sleep before I have to jet to work.

STFU, world!

(Not youse guys, of course, because you're nice and civilized and wait in my inbox until I'm ready to face you/the day.)