EVEN THOUGH I have little to say - nothing too remarkable happened today - I feel the need to blog again. I thought this was gone; this excitement to keep track of the days and the moments. But I guess not ... .
This morning I overslept and woke with 30 minutes to get ready for work. Wasn't going to happen. I took a long, luxurious shower and felt very good afterward. Friday is casual day at work so I got to put on jeans and a shirt and not worry about stockings and the proper outfit. Extra sleep and blue jeans. Maybe today was more remarkable than I thought.
It was raining on the way to the desk, computer, and chain to hold me there. That was lucky actually, because yesterday a bird passed over my car and left a truly ugly stain down the passenger's side window. (Must have eaten something really, really bad - and orange colored.) So the rain washed it off a bit and that was good.
The coyote was gone this morning. The city doesn't usually send out crews that quickly to pick up dead animals. Maybe they didn't want the citizenry frightened. I'm wondering if someone wanted the coyote for his carcass or his ears. There's another side of me that believes the "right people" picked up the coyote and took it and gave it a decent burial under the huge oak out in the field near their driveway.
Listen, do you think there's something wrong with me that I dream up stuff like this? Sometimes I wonder.
I loved the image of Steve from Bloggertropolis waving his hand in front of the elevator door, when he knew it was going to open anyway, and then pretending it was him that did it. I'm trying to think if I do any weird things like this or if it's just strange stories I cook up in my head.
I talk to myself a lot, you know; not expecting answers, and mostly to keep myself on task or help me remember things. And I dream up the most extraordinary stories where I turn out to be the heroine, saving someone some trouble or injury. I don't leap off buildings or dodge bullets, but folks end up being grateful. Then I shake my head wondering where "that" came from and go back to whatever I was doing before I started daydreaming.
I can't believe I'm actually typing this out. I guess I'm more tired than I thought and there's plenty to do tomorrow. I'm posting a photograph I took of a window in the Mister's old house and a bouquet of flowers I picked for him, in my efforts to show what a great little housewife I would make - so he would fall in love with me - femminismo
p.s. Candace, what is the name of these orange flowers? Oh, I remember! Globe flowers!