gnome

Happy Friday, y’all. It’s a brisk morning here in TinyTown, with the REAL FEEL temp of -46° outside. Once again, the sun is climbing over the horizon and showing its ass as though to say YOU WANT SOME OF THIS? But does it actually help us? NO. The frozen sun hangs there in the sky, useless as an ashtray on a motorbike, mocking us.

I had another sleep last night. Every night, it’s the same thing: come 9pm, I’m forcing myself to stay awake. By 10:30pm, I feel beat. We’ll go to bed and I’ll pass out, but not for long. I’ll be awake again by 4:30. I didn’t look at the clock this morning, I just tried to go back to sleep. The cats were sleeping on either side of me, not helping my situation. I think tonight I’ll move the bedtime earbuds into the bedroom. While I don’t need the music to fall asleep at bedtime, it might help me get back to sleep in the wee hours.

I put on clothes yesterday, and spent some time outside. I didn’t do anything but start up the truck. The Hot Mess has survived the frigid temps thus far. She protested mildly when I first turned the key; I think it’s good for the time being, as long as we run it a few minutes a day. I don’t trust the automatic locks (it wouldn’t be the first time it locked up with keys inside), so I sat inside while it ran for 15 minutes. If Zeppelin had been around, I’d have let him warm up in the truck with me.

The rest of the day is mostly a blur of boredom. I filled the tub and took an afternoon bubble bath, took some pics for Onlyfans. After the NSFW bathtub shenanigans, I played some Bastion until Shawshank came home. We went out for our dinner date – not our usual place, but the one near the house. The usual place had closed due to the weather, so we walked to the closer one.

Today is Friday. Shawshank‘s leaving work early due to the holiday weekend, so I’m doing the NSFW “morning shift” before lunch^*, hitting all the Twitter bullshit and uploading some old Christmas spice. I’ll put on clothes, but only because I feel like a failure of an adult if I don’t. When he comes home, we’ll figure out dinner and something to keep me awake for the rest of the night. I say, fill my pipe full of the dance-y weed and let the weekend begin.

^*There’s nothing quite like having two tabs of absolute smut open next to your spouse on the couch to make things a little awkward.