Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Goodness. Yeah, the Greenies begging is going on. Yeah, I am sleepy. But you can add that to being tipsy. "J" got a nice promotion and we drank some red wine, courtesy of Brett and Kristin, to do a little toast. I am clearly unaccustomed to such beverages.
I keep making typos, which is relatively unusual for me. You'll have to take my word for how many I have made.
I used to be a nearly competitive sleeper. And then those of you who follow this meandering have heard of my insomnia. Today, I slept and slept and slept. Up a few hours, down a few. And even when I am awake, I am not really awake.
So, even though it is only 9:15 pm, I may just give it up and sleep. Plus, Cooder will cuddle up with me and stop bugging me for treats.
I did finish The Island of Dr. Moreau. Thankfully. I did not much like it. Then again, perhaps my heavily sleepy state prevented me from grokking it all. I sit here yawning. I still have The Invisible Man to read, as well as two other stories. The Invisible Man is much more fun, lively, and I think I will just set it aside to read in the morning when I am all here.
I barely made it outside today, although I did drive to the post office to mail a birthday card written well in advance of the birthday and now late. Clearly, I need to get it together.
More big yawning. More typos. It is funny how many I am making.
And all I actually have to offer as a writer, is my version of life. — Anne Lamott
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