3.5+ hours of commuting with Sir Terence David John “Terry” Pratchett, 11 hour workday (important upgrade), soaking in hot hot water and bubbles with chapters of Woodpecker, and now I’m ready for the sleep of appeased Gods. I know I have outstanding work that needs catching up on, but it will be there tomorrow, and I have run out of those little sticks that hold the eyelids open. Goodnight, fellow collections of particles, fellow bags of water, fellow assemblances of energy. May everyone wake up aroused tomorrow!
The cat stares at me as I towel off, planting thoughts with her piercing feline eyes. For example, what if the reason she was crying for food tonight after a day of being well-fed was that she smelled my shrimp salad dinner and was wondering why she hasn’t been served her cut?