The Crack of Who?!

When I was a kid I absolutely hated getting up early in the morning. I always felt like warmed-over death, and given the choice, would sleep until afternoon. I'm not sure what happened to turn me into a morning person (oh yeah: life) but now this is my favorite time of day. I'm the only person who's up, except for the cats.

The cats have a major bug up their butts, this time of day: Peach and Bingo are wrestling in the living room, Romeo's out cattin' around somewhere, and Slappy White (if you want to see what he normally looks like, look up "inertia" in the dictionary) was suddenly violently startled by something invisible, bounded up in the air, and skittered off sideways. Generally, from the time I get home from work until I go to bed, they just lie around limply, like used tissues. But early in the morning they've got some spunk in 'em.

Someone next door is weedeating; a bit inconsiderate for this hour on a Saturday. I miss having a yard but don't miss having the maintenance. If only this apartment had a patio, life would be perfect.

Ah, the cats are already drifting off, the lazy bastards. Maybe I should give them some of my coffee.


in · er · tia (ĭ-nûr’shə) n. 1. see above