I just took an Ambien so ha! You're about to go down, insomnia!
You know what did it tonight? The cat. Not the dogs this time. The cat. She insisted on running past when I let the dogs out after they woke me up to go out to pee. I can usually go right back to sleep after that. But then the cat had to shoot past. She's lucky I didn't close the door on her. I think cats time it for maximum close shave to try to give you a heart attack because let's face it, I love my cat, but that's how cats are. Catlike.
But she can't get beat up by the Bad Cat that is terrorizing Brooklyn and particularly Patricia (that one is a Caity Classic if you missed it) because my cat is old and arthritic, so she immediately wants back in and lets it be known by YOWLing like that ghost cat in The Grudge.
So I let her in. But then I couldn't sleep.
Did some MacArthur Grant-worthy commenting.
Then watched this great documentary, The Woodmans. Convinced me that being an artist is too much torture.
Started wishing I had paid more attention in science classes. Realized it is too late now. Kind of like my dream of going to law school. I do not have the cognitive ability to memorize all the laws I would be trying to get my clients out from being convicted of. Actually, I only want to go to law school so I can sue people who annoy me, or rather threaten to sue them. Just as with writing, I prefer threatening to do it over actual effort.
OK, Ambien. Any day now.
I guess I'll just go read everything HamNo has written about Thomas Friedman and make sure I star it.
Then I'll just look over some more Francesca Woodman photographs. Good gravy, what a talent.
What I will not do is type. One thing I know: Ambien and keyboards do not mix. Goodnight, Johnny!