No, doze.

Torgi spent last night jumping up on the bed, poking my face and shoulder with his paw, trying to get situated, and then jumping down again. Sometimes he’d root around in the litter box like he’d lost a cufflink in a pile of dirty laundry, scrape scrape, scuffle scuffle.

Zen, on the other hand, was mostly quiet, until she woke up at 06:00 with a mighty siren-whoop. I was coherent enough to gingerly scoot her off the bed before she yarfed.

Today I’ve spent in that soft sleep-deprived sqwudge of reality, not quite dangerous but nowhere near a good place to be making any solid decisions.

And, of course, the cats are fast asleep, as they’ve been since I got home.


If I were a vengeful sort, I’d scruffle them awake. Instead I’ll just make today’s contribution to the Routine Reboot: going to bed when I’m tired.

Published by Halsted M. Bernard

An ever-molting black swan. Reader, writer, library director, over-enunciator. Listening + Unlearning. Opinions are my own. She/her. #BlackLivesMatter

2 thoughts on “No, doze.

  1. The little vignettes that you leave here are medicinal, magnificent, magnanimous. It’s second-best to being together, but it’s still a powerful variety of best.

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