Of Moons and Pigs

Hallelujah, the wind has finally stopped blowing, albeit a number of wildfires are still burning. With the unusually dry air the past few days, static was a big problem. I hate it when I get shocked trying to turn a light on. And with the hell winds, every time I stepped outside, I came back in with troll hair. I think I scared people. I know it scared me.


I rolled over and looked at the clock yesterday morning. Yep, it was 6:15, time to get up. I'd been to the bathroom, turned on the TV to catch the morning news, and turned on the coffeemaker (thinking I'd forgotten to flip the switch the night before) before I realized (from looking at 3 different clocks) that it was ... 5:15. Duh. It beat oversleeping, though, I must admit.

Behind Door #1, things are going to work one way. Behind Door #2, they're going to maybe work another way. Behind Door #3, it's not going to work by any hook or crook and there's a pass to take your losses and run. Which door are you gonna choose? It's a quandary.


The moon is getting fatter and fatter. So far, so good. I'm not inclined to hunker in, self-combust, tin foil the windows, go full-tilt boogie with a royal hissy fit, shop 'til I drop or go broke, whichever comes first, paint myself blue and yell at the stupid thing, or lock myself in the bathroom and write maudlin crap 'til I throw up. The orb is up there. All lit up. It does what it does. And ... it's getting bigger. It'll be in full zombie mode by Friday night. That's okay, I'm ready. Or I will be. Or I might be. Or I could be. Like maybe when pigs fly.

We're still in the clear today, though, so have a Happy Hump Day!