Good grief. It’s all of 6:37 of a Sunday morning, running up to New Year’s Day.
One could say waaa! i wanna sleep in! Except that I’ve already done that. Went to bed with the sun last night, and now have had some unholy number of hours of uninterrupted sleep. That last adjective — uninterrupted — is the operative term.
When you get old, you can’t sleep at night. A rare occasion it is, when you manage to stay asleep until dawn.
Indeed, it’s not dawn yet, here in lovely uptown Phoenix. Dark as pitch out there, it is. Ruby wants to head on out, but I’m wary of running into a coyote or two at this hour.
That’s exactly what happened the other day: we strolled past a neighbor’s house and Wiley Coyote shot out from under a bank of shrubbery. Fortunately, he took off running down the neighborhood street…if he’d decided to grab a corgi to take to breakfast, there wouldn’t have been much I could do to stop it.
Before that happened, I had no problem taking Ruby out in the dark. The only coyotes that concerned me were the two-legged variety.
Almost 7 a.m. Still dark out there, or at least on the low side of dark. Too cold — in the low 40s — to enjoy a doggy-walk just now. We’ll need to wait until the sun comes up. If and when it ever does. Doesn’t seem to be overcast, so I reckon what we’re seeing out there is the tag end of the usual winter night-time hours.
Ruby, having stuffed herself with doggy breakfast, is again zonkered out on the sack. Wondering if I can manage to turn off the light and climb back under the covers without waking her.
Hung out with some friends yesterday afternoon. We went to lunch(oid) in a coffee shop on the west side.
You know how long it’s been since I’ve had a meal in a restaurant? A long time, that’s for sure. DXH liked to eat in restaurants — and on a lawyer’s pay, he could afford it. SDXB hated restaurant food, and he resented paying for it. So after a few years in his household, I got out of the habit of eating out.
It was fun. SDXB is right, though: it ain’t hard to cook much better food in your own kitchen, for a whole lot less moolah.
Having picked up a number of his cheapskate habits, I must say that I do resent having to pay a hefty tip to the “wait-staff.” Seriously: if restaurants can’t afford to pay their workers a living wage, then they shouldn’t be in business.
Ruby has insinuated herself back onto the bed. Me, too: it’s cold in here, even with the heat blasting. And I’m sleepy…do not feel like getting up and rassling around. On the other hand…I’m hungry. And no one is going to hustle up some breakfast for me.