The week has zoomed by, as abbreviated weeks are wont to do, I suppose.

I spend Tuesday mostly sleeping, nursing a pulled muscle, and a sore head, and just catching up on rest. It’s sort of ironic, that I’ve spent the last month waking by five and doing all sorts of extra hours, and when I’m finally free? I was up at 4-ish the day I wrote my last post, and as I write this now it’s not even seven, and I’ve been up for an hour. Of course, I might go back to bed again. Because I can.

I don’t remember Wednesday, except for watching Project Runway.

Yesterday was a day of coffee, podcasts and tax returns. I haven’t used my coffee maker since my mother was here in May, because I haven’t been home, but it was there on the counter all gleaming and silvery yesterday, and there was a bag of breakfast blend in the freezer, and so I indulged in an entire pot – not all at once, of course – and grinned at the coffee scent wafting through the house.

While I sipped coffee (and waited for 400 pages of 1040’s 1120’s and 1065’s to print, which tax foo I promised to analyze for a loan my mother is doing), I listened to all eight of the available season three podcasts from Tim Gunn. I love audio performances, anyway, and his podcasts are not unlike sitting down for cocktails and hearing the local gossip. Addictive.

The tax returns beckoned, though, and so I surfed to MGIC’s website and downloaded their cool analysis software. Oh, I have a spreadsheet that does the same thing, but this is neater and more precise. Yay MGIC. Two hours later, I’d done an AGI analysis and a SAM (schedule analysis) on two years of returns, and emailed the end result off to my mother. I haven’t shredded the returns yet, in case she needs them for something, because no way am I reprinting that much paper.

Yesterday was ALSO Fuzzy’s birthday, but I’m the one who got a cool package in the mail. I sent him a gift basket at work, full of munchies, because he doesn’t like flowers, and he never remembers to eat lunch. We’re doing his birthday dinner over the weekend, which I’ve taken off from ComedySportz. (I’m already in withdrawl – workshop cannot come soon enough.)

My plans for today are lofty: Laundry, lounging, scribbling, maybe working with the cd I bought to help learn more accents. Letter writing. Oh, and more coffee.

…may get other people down, but personally, when said Monday is either a) the first day of a month of vacation or b) a holiday, or c) both, I love them. Yesterday was both rainy and a Monday, a lamplit day of the sort appropriate for quiet pursuits. It would have been ideal for reading and listening to NPR and napping in the afternoon just because we could.

We both did do some reading – Fuzzy finished book four in a dragon series we’ve both been reading, which books are fabulous in concept, but really poorly edited, which annoys me, though doesn’t seem to phase Fuzz. I’m not talking awkward word choices here and there either, but more basic things like spelling and grammar. These books might have been run through the spell-check in Word, but that’s about it.

I, on the other hand, went to Barnes and Noble the other night and bought NOTHING – because I’m the only person in the world who can walk into a store full of books and leave claiming there’s nothing to read. In truth, there were a couple things I picked up and then put down, because none fit my mood. Upon returning home, however, I found a book I’d purchased a few weeks ago and had started then set aside because some other book claimed my attention. Now, however, it fit my mood, and so I’ve been read it in fits and snatches all weekend, mostly in the bathroom.

Otherwise, I indulged in a personal MONK marathon while doing seemingly endless loads of laundry, and cuddling with the dogs. I still feel really achey from a pulled muscle, and I still feel like I’m behind on sleep. Tonight, I turned the lights out at 11:30 – early for me, especially considering I don’t have to be up at five – and I was blissfully asleep for an hour, until Fuzzy came to bed, which involved the Ritual of Last Call for the dogs, and then the subsequent dominance games they play on our bed. In the process, Zorro decided that going out into the wet to pee was Not Going to Happen, and announced this by leaving a veritable lake on the living room floor. He’s becoming more and more cantankerous now that he’s nine. So one AM found me keeping Cleo away from the puddle, and Fuzzy on his knees cleaning the floor. I love my dogs. But sometimes I wish we’d stuck with fish. Fish are good. They’re quiet, they don’t bring dead things into the living room, you don’t have to walk them, and if you forget to feed them they eat each other. Of course, they’re more like furniture than actual pets, but…

Anyway, here it is 4 AM. I woke convinced I’d heard a noise, except I think I dreamed it, but Fuzzy was up, as well, because he had to use the bathroom, which triggered my need and now I’m awake, and restless, and it’s hot, but then it’s not, and the pillows aren’t cool – even when I flipped mine over so the cool side would be against my cheek, it felt warm – and, and, and…

I’d talked to my mother briefly earlier in the day, because I was concerned since all day Sunday when I tried to call I kept getting messages that I was unable to call that country, even when I tried her toll-free number, so when we finally connected I was half-convinced Hurricane John had rebuilt itself after going over the Gulf of California, which would never have made the local media here because once Cabo San Lucas was determined to be out of danger, the rest of Baja ceased to exist. It turns out that they were fine – had power back but no internet, yet, and that TelMex had blocked the lines to avoid panic calls. Groovous.

I’m not sure what I’m doing today – I have plans that range from “nothing” to “clean the kitchen top to bottom” and “make your office neat, orderly, and work friendly” but whatever I decide, for the moment, I’m going back to sleep, or at least turning off the computer and lying in the dark to listen to the restful breathing of Fuzzy and the dogs.

And to smile softly about a day of rain.

Outside is grey, and the air is taut
Tight like a drum beating time in my brain
Just enough off from the rhythm of my pulse
That it creates silent, painful dissonance behind my eyes.

Thunder rolls casually across the sky
As a tourist drives by a famous landmark
And counts such as actually being there
Another picture postcard from a place never experienced

A pulled muscle refuses to stretch, and like the air
Feels thick and unwieldy
Hurts to move, but also to keep still
And my temperature is cold and hot

And my mood is grey
Neither up nor down
But bland and indifferent
Like the grey outside.

Tired as I was after work yesterday, I was still mentally singing “Freedom, freedom, freedom,” all night, because my time at BigFinancialCompany has come to an end. Oh, I love the people I worked with, but the job itself became a soulsucking nightmare, and no job is worth the exhaustion and crabbiness that this one caused. With the exception of ComedySportz, I’ve done nothing remotely creative since December.

I got work at nine yesterday, an hour before my scheduled time, and worked pretty much nonstop. If it hadn’t been for A’s amazing cake (thank you, A) and the hot dogs a broker sent, lunch would not have happened. As it was, it was 5:24 before I left, not the five I’d planned.

We zipped over to FedEx on the way to downtown Dallas, and by the time we were out of the parking lot, I’d fallen asleep, waking just before the exit for the West End. Yeah. I was that tired. We’ve been functioning on four or less hours of sleep for almost two months now, and it’s just wrong.

The show was interesting. I don’t think any of us were completely into it, and the audience was small (pre-season football + Labor Day Friday), and yet, it was MY best night ever. I won Doo-Rap, and made it to the final round on Story, and the last time we did either, I was out first. I only did one quick entrance/line/exit in Blind Line, but that was a choice because my teammates E and TC had a great scene going and if I’d really joined it would have made the chemistry all unmixy. I’m still really uncomfortable with Five Things, but thankfully TC set everything up. I owe him big for that. We didn’t finish the last thing, but it didn’t matter, because the goal of not having to do the catch-up game was achieved. (We also played Sing It, which was fun, but not spectacular.)

We didn’t linger for open mic night. I was way too tired to be around people by that point, and hungry for something reasonably approximating actual food – we ended up going to Denny’s so we could eat something without being mauled by small dogs, and I was in bed within an hour of getting home, and still am, in fact, though I’ve been up and down to let the dogs in and out a couple times.

It’s 1:30, and I’m trying to convince the Fuzz-man that getting up would be a wise decision, but he’s in denial.

And the bed is soft. And we don’t really NEED to be up til four…