*creak*

do not try my patience! (scotto handprint on entry zone... still unrepaired, many many montrhs later... I forget when it even happened)

It’s the day before the full moon, and I’m feeling a little off. I’m tired and groggy… can’t seem to shake off the funk I’m in. I’ve been at work for an hour, had a tall, cold tea from the “roach coach”, but still feel like only 5 of my 8 cylinders are firing. Minor soreness in the base of my back, but my main complaint is a head full of cotton. What I need to do is re-channel my energy (if I can find where I put it), and get the ball rolling. Once I have some momentum, the rest of the missing pieces will fall into place. I think.

Irrational thoughts are filling my mind, and I don’t like them there. Non-sequitors and unhelpful nonsense are taking up space where more useful information should be. My mind is a cluttered mess at the moment, when usually everything might be a little scattered, at least I can find what it is I’m looking for.

I’m fortunate to have a few solid anchors to focus on… Newton this morning, nuzzling close, fur like a rabbit’s, nose rubbing against my neck and purring loudly in my ear. Thoughts of my sweetheart’s echoing words of love and play, logic and lust, images of us curled up together on the couch, watching TV or just listening to her laughter.

There’s a strong link to sleep there. Many pleasant pictures of cuddling in bed, only a hint of soft light in the room while spooning… her asleep and me in the pleasant halfway twilight between this world and the land beyond, comforted by her and Newt’s breathing being the only sounds, synchronizing with my own. I suspect that when I do get to sleep tonight, it’ll be a solid, sound, deep one.

On a semi-related tack –

I’m vaguely aware of Newt’s location as I sleep. I can feel him move from my neck to against the calf of my leg, opposite… then to inside the “nest” that forms, should I lay back Indian-style, with a square opening, with opposite angles starting at my knees. If he wants to play, generally he’ll give my face or neck a little “tap-tap” with his swabby-front feet… and if it’s light out, I’ll oblige him. I can’t recall the last time he did it when it was still dark out, but I think it was because he was chilly… as I rustled to reply to him then, he just scampered under the covers with me, and purred, laying close. Sometimes he only sleeps nearby, but usually he’s in some sort of contact with me, even if it’s just an edge of tail touching my ankle. (I’m the same way… when sharing the bed, I like to touch, too.)

I’m officially adding Rudy McRudeRudyson to “Small Hands” nickname list. The stinker interrupted an important call of Dale’s just to use Dale’s phone to call someone in the parking lot. (Rudy McRude Has a cell-phone, and a regular phone in his office, about 15-20 steps away… or he could’ve used my phone which wasn’t in use at the time.)

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