2000-04-13
Dear Diary:

My two cats are doing their best, but they just can't snore loud enough for me to get a decent night's sleep. The silence at night is getting on my nerves.

My spousal unit is off on one of those meditation retreat thingies of his. Up at 5:30, meditate, listen to lectures, meditate more, eat only whole grain vegetarian type food and then off to bed at 11 p.m. This is his idea of a relaxing break. I'd rather boil my head.

I can't imagine how someone can have the courage to look hard and deep inside themselves for a week. Me, I'm going the passing acquaintanceship route. What I don't know can't hurt me.

And as for the food--well, I can eat vegetarian when I must. I will even admit that a lot of it is very tasty. But hey, our species fought long and hard to get to the top of the food chain, and I figure I *owe* it my ancestors to eat the losers, eh.

Are you with me on this? Anyone up for some curried losers? No? How about Losers Cordon Bleu?

My spousal unit and our two kitties Zoe and Zubby who are doing their best to snore in his place. Oh dear. Wait a minute ... I've gotten so far off the track I can't even see the track from here ... Forgive me. Snoring, not food, that was the subject of today's meanderings.

It's not an exaggeration to say that Paul throws off some serious decibels at night. Over the years I've learned to sleep through it, though.

Now, when I have silence, around 2:30 in the morning my eyes pop open. Every atom of my body tells me something is wrong. I lie there sleepless, watching the stars through the skylight above our bed.

God I miss his snoring.

--Marn

Old Drivel - New Drivel


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This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

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2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.