I was having a weird, unpleasant dream when I woke up. One of those dreams where someone (in this case, not me) is running around desperately trying to get something important done and no one is paying attention or offering to help. I eventually woke up, realized my back hurt and the only solution was to drag my carcass out of bed. Coffee is the drug of choice for surviving mornings like this. I believe the ultimate crisis would be running out of either coffee or half-and-half (half milk-half cream for those of you who don’t live around here).
Anyway, good moods are not much in evidence. Got a call from Rosie my friend and she described the general mood as grumpy, which was the first thing anyone said today that made Garry smile.
The weather isn’t helping. Yesterday it snowed, which wasn’t nearly as heartwarming as I might have wished. It has been bitterly cold for the past few days, but started warming up during the storm. Now it’s quite warm. And raining. The dogs don’t like rain. Snow is okay. Anything is okay. But not rain. They act like whipped curs when required to go outside — which, being dogs, is not optional for them.
As I write, they are crashed out on the sofa, Bonnie perched on the sofa with her face staring out the picture window. She’s keeping her eyes open. You never know. Santa might show up with more toys. Their basket of toys is reduced to the rabbit, a pretzel, the little dog, and one of the two hedgehogs. I think the other hedgehog went out through the dog flap and won’t be seen until spring. I tossed the second starfish this morning. He (she?) was torn open and the stuff was coming out. I think Gibbs has been eating it. Not doing his stomach any good.
Scrooge McTrump has sucked the joy out of the holidays for us. We have to accept that this is what it is, and for the next bunch of years, is is also what will be. We have to find ways to cope, but we are bummed. Worse, most of our friends are at least as bummed as we are and quite possibly in an even worse head space. I’m dreaming of long space voyages to worlds without politicians or political parties. A simple world where merely surviving keeps you busy.
Mostly, I hate the idea that the last president I will see in my lifetime will be … no, I can’t say the name. I’m not ready. Maybe in a few weeks I’ll be able to spit those sounds out, but not yet. After all, it’s still 2016, so what could possibly go wrong?