I passed out around 11, and he was still frisky at that point so I'm buying it.
His current state of perpetual neediness is quite enough, thank you, without piling toddler insomnia on top.
He was up at 8:30, a bit later than usual, his disposition intact. He went from lovey-dovey good mornings to thrashing and kicking on the floor, wailing at the injustice of a father who sets you down for 30 seconds to butter the toast, in 15 minutes flat.
Alas, worked called and I had to leave my well feathered nest of domestic bliss, handing Fuss off to the wife like a lit stick of dynamite painted up to look like a relay baton.
No herons on this morning's commute, but then my usual route through the wetlands was blocked by a large dump truck sporting a ROAD CLOSED sign. Intimations as to the cause were provided by acres of flooded farmland bordering my alternate route. As a youth I loved it when the bridges flooded, it meant the school bus had to detour through San Luis and that was time I could enjoy the weather instead of struggling to look attentive in my cinderblock classroom. As an adult, it's just another a minor annoyance in a day fast approaching its quota of annoyances.
But, I made it to work, and I have a large cup of coffee in front of me and I'm listening to Lightnin' Hopkins break it down.
As there's a plethora of unflattering names for anyone who complains about hanging out in a bookstore all day in the rain I'll pipe down now, drink my coffee and wait for customers act up and give you something to read about besides my minor discontents.
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