assorted

The Fuss has stopped sleeping again.
His deplorable habit of flopping and crawling and wriggling his way over onto my pillow is a modern innovation which allows his hourly shrieks to penetrate my sleeping brain like bunker busters, pulverizing sleep's very foundations.

Earplugs, you say?
Indeed.

He has an appointment today, we're hoping someone can figure something out.
It's sad to pine for those halcyon days when you'd get a luxurious two hours of sleep between outbursts.

The organic produce project is proceeding. Last night I sauteed up a batch of spinach, tonight is either the swiss chard or the bok choy, depending.

There's a bird stuck in the store, and he's already foiled my usual ploy of turning off all the lights to entice them out the door to the sunny world beyond. I'm hoping he'll eventually get tired of clinging to the bricks up by the roofline and come down to where I can get a bag over him.

Two people have wandered in asking what happened to the record store.
"They're right there, two doors down."
"Oh!"

This is a change of pace from the usual record store mix-ups, which involve either trying to buy concert tickets or pick up their special orders from me.

The little blogger posting tabs have a new addition, 'monetize'.
Presumably this is the doorway to riches, a way to leverage my investment in Baxblog content and transform ephemeral words into tangible earnings.
Alas, as someone who habitually runs adblock plus it would be more that slightly hypocritical to put the touch on my vast readership with targeted ads for Withnail & I tee shirts, subscriptions to Cook's Illustrated and a panoply of sleep aids.

You have dodged a bullet, dear readers.
You remain un-monetized....for now.

/edit
another gal just asked where the record store went.
"Two doors that-a-way", I replied.
"Is it on this same level?" she asked.

Uh...wha?