Not answering the question?
The Moodies said it so well: Another day’s useless energy spent. I’m ready to sleep, but my day isn’t over. Still have to relay some messages to others in the house, and the dog doesn’t understand why I’ve dressed him in his Thundershirt. Dear Dog, I did it because you looked more bored than me.
What with the rains that let me ride the bus in a soggy state, and the phone that keeps waking me up, I tend to run on less down time than I should. Not that I prone a return to my teenage years, when the bed was more relevant than the day it preceded. Neither those years when a baby could assure that sleep was staccato (one of the guys at work is playing that game, and another left for his turn at learning a new skill this morning). I’m just at the point in my life where I can avoid certain jobs, but the alarm clock menaces me, over and over again.
Still have to watch the news, though. Yesterday, I hoped to learn something other than career goals for a (former) goalie. Today, I watched a self-important mayor prove that you don’t have to answer THE question to get press time. Maybe next week (if the video is found and the crowd-sourced funding comes through). More important is the news that Amanda pitched her bong out the window (and still got arrested). The news, as seen by the social press. Pressure.
Tonight, I shall sleep, because some things are important.
