|resting like a righteous dog, and not like|
an early morning sleep-disrupting troublemaker.
'No, Bruiser,' I said. With firmness.
Away he slunk, only to come back two point five minutes later, tippytapping like a bastard.
'No, Bruiser,' the historian said. Firmly, if sleepily.
Away and back again. Tippy tappy. The dog is persistent.
By this time, of course, I was awake. My brain was starting to think of things to be mildly anxious about. List-making. I got up, cracked open the door. I said, 'Wait Bruiser,' which is my strategy for getting back in bed and adjusting the covers so that I'll still have some by the time he hops up. But then he hopped up and I was left to fume and cling to the remnants of my covers.
So I got up and wrapped myself in a robe and faux fur blankets and fell asleep on the couch. I woke up late, later than I wanted to. Which always makes me feel like I've started the whole day behind.
DIGRESSION. I really need to get a hold of my attitude.
BACK TO MY GRIPING: So I made some pancakes (and order was restored!) and got myself ready for this agenda:
- purchase two items for historian's birthday
- purchase sundry items at Target
- write drafts of two poems
Believe it or not, I accomplished this agenda. Plus I updated my anxious list. Then we went out for Vietnamese food and Anomalisa, which was very good and also melancholy.
Meanwhile, this is still going on at our house
|I'm pretty sure it's coming down this week. -ish.|
and also this:
|were you aware of snow in the forecast? we weren't.|
We need to take Bruiser out in the snow for a walk, I guess, and then a talking to about sleeping in his own bed until at least seven o'clock. But I admit, I don't have much faith in this strategy. In his whole life, Bruiser has never once been known to seriously heed a talking to.