I went to bed early and slept poorly, then overslept thanks to a thunderstorm that kept my bedroom from getting to the level of lightness that usually indicates "six o'clock." That's right, I try not to use an alarm clock. I sleep lightly enough to be able to hear my husband's snoring despite all efforts to drown it out, yet I sleep deeply enough that the sound of an alarm clock rockets me to a seated position with a gasp of shock. That can't be good for my heart.
One of the cats has thrown up on our bed every single day for the last four days. I am running out of patience and clean bedding. She seems fine except when she's reenacting scenes from "The Exorcist," but I suppose I'll have to take her to the vet anyway. This isn't the sick cat from a couple of weeks ago, by the way, it's another one. I think it's safe to say that when the number of cats in our household begins to eventually dwindle, we will not be restoring the population to its current level ever again. Then again, I'm feeling rather crabby this morning.
I saw the "What Not To Wear" gals on "Oprah" last night, and now I feel even more frumpy and unstylish than ever. Of course, if someone took me to Nordstrom's and spent hundreds of dollars dressing me and fixing my hair and makeup, I'd look a lot better, too. Makeover shows never take their contestants to Marshall's or Target and show them how to improve their look for $150. With $1,000 to spend on a new wardrobe, I think anybody'd look pretty darned improved. Okay, I feel better now.
Have a lovely Wednesday and don't eat any cicadas.