This morning my cat decided he wanted breakfast at 4:41. I know because I keep my cell phone next to my bed just in case. In case of what I'm not sure, but anyway I could see the time quite clearly when Lurch came in and started his meowing. Despite my throwing a pillow at him he persisted, enough to get me out of bed, down the stairs and into the kitchen. Naturally I stayed awake since it's impossible to go back to sleep once you've dealt with the contents of a can of cat food. Sadly this situation is not at all uncommon, which might explain why I run out of steam most afternoons.
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| Picasso and friend. |
When I had a dog I would sometimes wonder how much fatter I'd be
if
I didn't have to walk him three times a day. Usually I had such
thoughts while we were wandering around in a blizzard or a thunderstorm, just to give
it a positive spin. (I find it helpful to consider dire situations as weight loss opportunities.) After Rufus died I found out: seven pounds fatter.
Now I'm
wondering how much more I might accomplish in life if only I could get more shut-eye. For all I know, sleep deprivation is impacting my creativity. (Maybe that's why so few of my paintings sell.) I'm willing to bet that Picasso's cat let him sleep in.
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