The Furious Spinner

Sleep, where for art thou, buddy?

So never got to sleep after I got up and couldn't sleep and did the post. Seems like everyone and everything is dead, dying, or sick. Having trouble coming to grips with that again. Geez. And my ears were ringing so bad I couldn't stand the silence—or non-silence. Went downstairs and put on the Gilmore Girls to put me to sleep whilst on the couch snuggled under the quilt my daddy made me. Didn't work. Mario woke up at 6 a.m. and came and got me, wouldn't go away until I went back upstairs with him. Fell asleep on his shoulder (always does the trick). Didn't even wake up when he got up to get ready for work. Did wake up when the phone rang at three minutes to 8:00. Doc's office was calling to schedule a pre-op. Turns out I could have had my pre-op yesterday when I had my post-op. Been awake all day in that hazy icky way you are when you haven't slept for a couple of days. Almost asleep when someone knocked on the freaking door. I yelled, "Who is it?"

"Millennium."

"Millennium-who?" (Hey, it could have been a cruel knock-knock joke.)

"The cable company," he said.

"We don't have cable!"

"You get it through the phone line?"

Couldn't the guy tell by my annoying screech that he needed to go away?

"WE DON'T HAVE TV!"

That did it. I guess he thought I was nuts, and he went away.

Now I feel like Mel Gibson in whatever that conspiracy movie was. The phone is ringing. I wonder if it's Patrick Stewart. I hope he doesn't try to tie me to a wheelchair and throw me down concrete stairs.

Maybe I need to chant.

Moooooooooooooooooooo.

Wait, that's what cows do.

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