14th
saturday morning routine
i’m typically exhausted from friday’s long workout + samurai davis combo. then, i have an anxiety dream about dad and/or ex-roomates or ex-boyfriends who owe me money. when i wake up, i have to discern which parts are plausible and which aren’t. circles of plausibility are strange…everything impossible in this spacetime makes sense within the context of the dream.
“yes, it’s absolutely possible that people can come back to life. the doctors just cryogenically freeze the ‘dead’ bodies until they file the come-back-to-life paperwork duuuuh.”
the outside noise of the spring/summer birds tend to overpower the white noise machine…so there’s wake up #1. unlike the rest of the week, chris gets up early on saturdays and feeds the cats (mostly due to those goddamn bird noises). the cats (mostly forrester) don’t understand why i’m not up. that’s when the real fun starts. i’ll sit half-asleep in bed when i hear forrester’s “I’M DONE EATING” cries get louder and louder until he jumps on the bed, meowing in my face. then joel’s “I’M DONE EATING” cries follow shortly after. he’s trying to find forrester, who’s trying to find me to get me up. i don’t know if it’s the crying or the terrible smell of their breath or the fact that they’re stepping on my stomach over and over, but i get up. wake up #2, courtesy of joel and dr. forrester. half-terrible and half-adorable. totally reliable.
sorry, friends with high expectations. i’ll only blog about banality here. in fact, it’s not blogging. it’s BLARGHING.
XOOOOH!!!
