Shoulders tense, fingers missing a number of keys and the birds are not singing.
I cannot sing this early or late, normally I'd be singing or gesturing gutturally, but it is as stated, two Am.
It's is difficult for me to watch the small calico cat shivering outside. Capturing her is a fate not intertwined with my family, there have been efforts, she likes the food we buy but not the warmth and carpeting.
I've somewhere to be eight hours, roughly, and I've no desire to back out.
At least the accustomed mood has lifted while the noise reasons.
I've yet to determine if I should post daily or as daily as I feel moved to. Either is accomplished with ease.
The Calico (Momma Kitty) perched on the railing, cleaning herself while the surfeit of raccoons have fits and theorize and chatter.
There are fucking raccoons - big ones - on my three season porch. it's too late to fire a gun. Lucky fuckers.
This has been brought to you by...
"no cure for insomnia inc."
where people rock back and forth all night,
muttering balderdash and realities.