I got up an hour ago, and my hair is still all poking up out of the night braid. That means it's Saturday. Diet Coke + two Excedrin = Breakfast of Champions.
I sleep on my side, and Eugenia will drape herself over my hip and purr until I wake up. Pushkin is following me around and squeaking. He is currently hemorrhaging on the floor because I won't get down there and rub his tummy. For the fifth time. In an hour.
I should try to clean up downstairs today, but it is hell, and I am lazy. My room is almost done, and the living room is okay, and now I'm not motivated. If it were sunny, I would go walk around the lake, but it is not, and I am lazy. I should probably call my (one girl) friend and see if she's alive and wants to do anything, because she is lonely and her husband is an asshole, but I am a horrible, horrible person and ALSO I AM LAZY. I had a great conversation with Spook Thursday night about how dealing with people all day long at our big-girl jobs takes everything we've got and leaves absolutely nothing left over for social interaction. I guess it's genetic.
Today I will boot up Ada and get the files off it that I didn't do two years ago when Lucretia came. There's a 60-40 chance this will only upset me. I have to drag up one of the old monitors from the garage because all we have up here are the weird new connectors. I just lost all my geek cred because I don't remember what they're called.