just be a fucking human

Holy shitsnacks, it’s Sunday. We’re up, we’ve caffeinated, and the cats have eaten. Chaucer has already thrown up breakfast, helpfully depositing it directly into the litter box. Crime shows are on TV. The day is off to a smashing start.

We kept things low-key yesterday. I put on clothes, which peer-pressured Shawshank to get dressed as well. He went out to the grocery store after lunch to pick up some stuff for dinner, but neither of us did anything else. I was bored and probably making my third round of online schmoozing when Shawshank turned on a nature show. I don’t know if he slept, but I think I napped for almost two hours.

The nap helped me stay up a bit later than usual. He still had to nudge me awake a couple of times, but I blame the show we had on. While I absolutely love them, I swear there’s something in all of Dick Wolf’s shows that knocks my ass right out. It’s like my brain says oh, you expect us to pay attention to a plot? are you mad? and enters its shutdown process. We might have to switch around the time slots of the various series we’re watching. Keep the crime dramas to earlier in the evening, when I still have working synapses.

Aside from putting on clothes, I might try to do other stuff today. We’re going to Shady Acres for dinner, which means another day of pretending to be a functional human adult. Shawshank started the laundry. I want to bleach my hair, and I’ll probably do it some time after we come home from dinner. In between, we’ll figure out what we want to do with the rest of our day.