51/52: Porcine

And so, to my surprise, I've survived another round of daylight saving time, and woke at what I'd thought was about four thirty this morning but the clock said was only half past three. It put me quite out of sorts, though not without a sense of relief that this moment of unwonted disruption was over until next spring. This is what happens when humans mess with mother nature's railroads' time! It's no wonder the trains had passed through the mini-metropolis so quietly last night that they didn't wake me. They were doubtlessly muffling themselves in heavy mourning garb! I wish I could have seen that sight! Without getting out of my cozy bed, of course.

Finding myself not yet a corpse yet again means I must continue to deal with the slings and arrows, aka daily tasks, of that outrageous fortune we know as life. Consciousness already issues demands such as "eat something!" and "go sit on the toilet before your crap yourself!" which I find both intrusive and humiliating in their abject practicality. True, my continued material existence (no great prize itself in any case) is not utterly dependent on the immediate fetching of fresh milk, but something in my mostly broken brain keeps insisting it is as good as, and that my ass needs to be gotten off of as soon as possible and the situation dealt with in a responsible, adult manner or we will throw a tantrum!

Oh, the balderdash, the bollocks, the bullshit, the porcine breakfast of life!


( Sunday Verse )