Yesterday I indulged my inner Leo and spent most of the day eating and sleeping. This left me feeling somewhat like a beached whale by the end of the evening, and it was really hard to actually go to sleep last night. This was assisted by someone setting off what sounded like dynamite somewhere in our neighborhood (which accordingly set off car alarms for about a block), and the cats desperately NEEDING to be in the bedroom, where they would walk up and down my side of the bed because I rudely pulled the curtain completely shut and they couldn't find a way into the window sill. Finally cats were corralled and put into the living room, where they can get into the window at will without bugging ME. I still woke up a lot.
My half-baked original vampire story progressed slightly in my mind. Said vampire is mugged in a dark alley near his bar in Burbank and shot three times -- of course, rather startling his mugger by getting up afterward. I have to keep him from pulling that "Angel" line, "Damn it, that hurt!" But then, Sean Patrick really likes watching "Angel," so I'm sure he's itching for an opportunity to say it. Will I ever get any of these things written? Who knows? I don't know what happened to my ability to write, but it really does seem to have oozed just out of my grasp. Sometimes I think I have a hold on it, but it just slips away every time I try to pull it closer.
Maybe if the Fab Five did come here and take care of redecorating this place, they could throw away a lot of this junk I can't bring myself to do. Queer Eye for the Lesbian Couple, yes indeed.
Amusing line just seen on CNN's bottom screen: "Not Satisfied Bush to Congress: pass legislation to get more people working."