Rooster

I thought I’d get another entry in today, before the big 6.0 upgrade has the site down for however long that sort of thing takes.  Hopefully it will all be over with by the time I get home from [rhymes with "jerk"] and I can start trying out the new features and whatnots to see if I like them, if they make a difference, and if I actually give a damn. (Sorry, site administrators, I know you guys work hard and I’m sure you’re proud of your baby, but I didn’t much care when the last change happened either.  Plenty of people actually do, so abosorb their praise while it’s there.)

I hate when I can’t find the end of the roll of toilet paper.  Ours sits on this blue, wooden duck my brother and his wife made about 15 years ago, back when they were trying to make extra money by making and selling wooden things, like blue duck toilet paper caddies and two-dimensional reindeer and sleigh for Christmas.  Anyway, point is, this blue duck holds the roll vertically, so gravity is no help in finding the end of the paper.  So I have two options, barring actually picking the roll up off of the little dowel that holds it upright, which would totally defeat the purpose of the entire duck.  Those are: a) scrabble around the perimeter of the roll with my fingers and hope that one of them will manage to hook the edge of the paper, and; b) spin the roll on the dowel in hopes that the centrifugal force will loosen the grip the edge of the paper stubbornly holds on the rest of the roll.  Neither method is perfect, which is bad because getting frustrated while on the toilet is recipe for disaster. 

I wonder if the whole thing is the duck’s fault. 

Since I wrote my little story a few days ago, I’ve been considering writing more.  Not necessarily picking up the narrative where it left off just yet, because I haven’t decided if our nameless hero really is much of a hero.  What I’ve been considering is going back and telling how the other two people– the older man in the truck and the "dead" man in the sports-car– got to that point in the first place, out-of-order Tarantino style.  I suppose if I did that I should probably tell how our first-person protagonist got there too.  I haven’t decided if I actually want to do any of that.  I’ve been considering issuing an invitation for anybody who reads my crap to go back and re-read that (entry title: Warp Asylum) and maybe write their own, like one of those campfire ghost stories where you pass the flashlight and add a bit at a time.  You could post the entry on your own diary, then I might repost them here for others to read.  I dunno, it sorta sounds like fun.  We could all have our own little story-telling circle or something.  But I dunno if I actually want to do that or not, because I don’t know if I could remain interested in my own idea long enough to actually carry it on, and I don’t know if I can count on my own creativity to hold out.  But anyway, it’s a suggestion. 

I woke up with a headache.  I’m blaming the fact that I slept in a bit, getting about 9 hours instead of the customary 8.  Sleep, for whatever reason, is apparently bad for me.  Sure, if I didn’t sleep I’d be in bad shape because I’d probably fall asleep at the wheel or something, but it seems that every time I wake up, I feel worse than when I lay down in some way or another.  I have to recover from sleeping!  I wake up with a headache and have to take painkillers and a shower to stave it off.  I wake up with joint pains I didn’t have before I slept, and I have to try to work them out.  I’m groggy all day.  I don’t understand it.  Maybe I should start listening to Lindsey Wagner after all and get one of those sleep number beds for like a million dollars, or however much they cost.  More that I want to spend on a bed, I know that. 

I’m considering simply buying an oversized sheet and tying it off like a hobo bag and stuffing it with soft things to use for a bed.  Like a giant bean bag chair, only instead of a bean bag chair it’d be a pillow sheet bed.  Or something.  Terrible idea probably.  Why can’t somebody hurry up and invent a zero-G sleep pod?  Or would that be a bad idea too?  I’d probably wake up with a foot behind my head and my arms tied together if I left myself open to the randomness of zero-G.