My brain is just mean. Not only was I unable to fall asleep last night until 12:30, I woke up this morning at 5:30. A.M. And when I tried to take a nap this afternoon, I just didn't fall asleep. Humans do need sleep, don't they? Which part of my brain doesn't get that? It's not as if I'm not exhausted.
Okay, done with that. New subject. Maybe not new; I know I've said this before: Love all you d-land guys. You are the best. I got so many nice "welcome home" messages. Did I mention that I missed you all while I was away? On Thursday night in London, I finally got a little bit of Internet access -- I had to buy a card with 45 minutes worth of Interent time on it at the hotel -- and after checking two email accounts, answering one or two messages, and posting a brief update on my travel website, I started reading diaries like a woman possessed, knowing I had to leave a bit of time out of the 45 minutes for K to check her email letter. I had three windows going; I was reading one diary while another loaded, and I was trying to go back to last Saturday night's entries so that everything made sense. I was like -- one of my favorite expressions here -- a pig in shit. But I was frenzied. I had to save some diaries until I got home last night, and then I had to catch up on the ones I did get to look at on Thursday, but I was reading like crazy and couldn't take the time to leave any messages for anyone. So I was still feeling a little out of touch, but it sure was great while it lasted.
Speaking of my other little website, I finally figured out how to get pictures on it without going into the whole gold account thing. I mean, I knew how -- you just have to post the pictures someplace else -- but it was only today that I thought of going the geocities route without actually bothering to host a page there, just uploading pictures. So I should be making some changes to the entries over there and putting up pictures, too. Not that I have any idea if anyone's even looked at it. The Sibs didn't, not the whole time I was away. Gee, thanks.
Speaking of odd relatives, I have just got to have the strangest husband in the world. Not that this is a surprise to me, but cripes. Just for starters, the last time he changed the litterbox was the week I was in the hospital with the brain tumor (December, 1991) and the first week I was home. I started doing it again the week after that. And we've got cats with ... shall I say, health issues, so the room where the litterbox is is not pleasant, if you get my ... drift. And it's a small house. Anyway, the Hubs realized he was going to have to take on this chore while I was in the U.K. and not leave a week's worth of dirty litter until I got home, which was a step in the right direction, but come on. You'd think a man with a law degree from a major university would have figured out that changing the newspaper under the box, which is there to catch the ... overflow (from the cats with poor aim) would have been a good idea too. I walked through the front door last night and almost passed out. You'd think he might also have had the sense not to recycle every scrap of newspaper in the house yesterday morning, too. Husbands. I mean, really.
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I'm watching Queer Eye
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