Oh. Is it 1:46 AM again?

Thank gawd for dopamine or whatever chemical it is that keeps us from physically acting out our dreams while completely asleep because I've just shook off a dream so unsavory and so infuriating that I might still be ready to clean the antagonist's clock. It was rather a disappointment to wake up and realize that no clock and no antagonist or key grips could be damaged in this production, so I kicked the bed apart and brushed my teeth again.

And thank gawd for Silly Cats. I wake up sweaty and knotted and frightened and just ready to find that cricket bat and do some serious damage and... there she is: standing on the toilet lid, grinning at me: the ridiculous little fuzzy person I live with. And Shred's so excited for unscheduled playtime, to get an extra cuddle in and to headbutt me another "goodnight". This may not be the typical cat: she has far too much joie de vivre to remain aloof or even semi-dignified. It's times like this she's worth everything she's thrown up on, destroyed or kvetched about. Damn tops, that Shred.

Okay. Back to bed.

This Morning's Grammatical Aside: The 1: 00 - 2:00 AM slot seem to be the time when all the extra free-range ands are running around just to be corralled into blog posts.