Tired
The cat howled all night.
All. Fucking. Night.
Then I got up to find the person who owed me something, never sent it. So my sleepy self did the work.
And then he sent the work I needed. When I was done.
I can’t get into what an existential mess it has turned into. But it is three hours I won’t get back, all before 8 a.m.
At least I was awake for pothead upstairs to go through all his dresser drawers right above my bed. I swear this asshole can’t remember where he hides his stash from day to day.
Of course my favorite time of day is when he goes on and off his balcony a thousand times, opening and closing the door with gusto each time.
I’m tired. And tired. And did I mention tired?