I didn't get to have that good cry last night. I was too tired - I don't even remember turning the light off and lying down, just like all those nights you were in the hospital your last three months. I was still beat this morning. I slept in, got up late, had breakfast, and tried to watch the UK game. I saw the first quarter, and the next thing I new it was 3:30 and there was a phone ringing in a TV commercial.
Sleeping is Better with a Cat
I have reverted to being a nocturnal griever. I was fine today until the sun went down. Now I want to curl up with a plate of brownies and snivel. But I don't have the energy for making brownies or crying, so I'm watching Notre Dame lose to Purdue.
I don't know where the grief came from this time. Maybe Gus' death is part of it, maybe the change of seasons, maybe just the natural cycle of things. I decided long ago that life is like surfing. We have no control over when the waves come, what they'll be like, or where they'll take us. All we can do is stay on our boards and be ready for them. When they come, we try to stay upright and ride them the best we can. After they're gone we get up, wipe the sand out of our eyes, look around, and try to figure out where we are. This is just another wave, and it will take me a little farther up the beach. Where Jen still won't let me dig.
The cat seems to know how I feel. He's crawled into my lap for two naps, and he doesn't do that very often. It's good to have his purring warmth on my legs. God bless the animals! They keep me warm when I'm cold inside.
I miss you tonight. If I get to bed soon, maybe I can stay awake for that good cry. Thank you for showing up in my dream last night, but please do think the plot out a little better next time! I enjoyed your visit very much until the end, when it turned out that you were the one that was the zombie. That pretty much ruined it for me.
Love you great bunches,