It’s always been the way: you drink, you fall asleep, catching the zzz’s as blissfully as the green sheep by his bush, only to wake up an hour later really awake. As you lay there a rat trap goes off suddenly in the roof and you think, that’s it, I’m getting up.
It’s what I do.
The cat is ecstatic. The cat receives you like royalty – “a playmate!” – before giving you the cold shoulder. Her memory is short and while she is a pleasant cat like all felines one must never underestimate her capacity for contempt.
Late nights bother me. According to a circadian rhythm chart, I ought to be entering my deepest period of sleep and yet here I am, on the computer, fingers at the ready for some online shopping (I’ll be strong though).
The clock sounds its beat. I hear a snore from inside, but can’t quite pick out who it belongs to.
I hope you all have a lovely long Easter weekend.
I think I’m almost ready for sleep again.
And judging from her staring, the cat will be happy to see the back of me.
***
Before I sign off, I will add that yesterday saw the announcement of the Best Australian Blog 2011 Competition Finalists. I am there in the Lifestyle/Personal Category. I’m still quite amazed. To new readers, welcome and hello! Stick around long enough and you’ll discover my love for coffee, books, and Sam Rockwell’s dancing. It’s a nice space to be in. I like it.
* Line taken (and modified) from Emily Dickinson
