Sam felt the urge this morning to wake us all up at the crack of the dawn and march us down to the beach for a private service by the water. He vacations just about as well as I do, which is to say he hardly does. I will proudly report that I sat outside for a whopping ninety minutes with a glass of wine and Kitchen Confidential, churning through almost a quarter of the book proper and I didn't hear a peep from the house or the sky or the neighborhood. I think they put an embargo on contacting me for that time period and it was nothing short of surprising and completely unexpected.
I did forget to water the lawn too, which was going to be part of my evening but the book was too good to put down and so it waited. I'll do it today.
I was having a good sleep but I am finding that it doesn't actually matter if I go to bed at ten or at one in the morning I will wake up exactly seven hours later ready to roll. Usually that's five but since last night was so late due to an attempt to cram two movies into the later part (Rezort and IO, respectively, on Netflix. IO was far better but Rezort had the best chase scene since Vanishing Point, not even kidding. I screamed out loud.) I went to bed at one-thirty and was up promptly at eight-thirty, or maybe that was Sam's soft knock urging us to follow him.
He had coffee in thermoses at least. Bless him. I sucked almost a whole one back and then decided I was ready to listen but he was almost done. It was cold, about seventeen degrees and I'm up to my ankles in the icy Pacific, short-shorts and a huge sweater and bedhead because that's fashion for me as of late. Underneath it the ever-present pink bikini.
I look around as the caffeine lights the fire in my veins and I think this is my life now and it's awesome.
I did forget to water the lawn too, which was going to be part of my evening but the book was too good to put down and so it waited. I'll do it today.
I was having a good sleep but I am finding that it doesn't actually matter if I go to bed at ten or at one in the morning I will wake up exactly seven hours later ready to roll. Usually that's five but since last night was so late due to an attempt to cram two movies into the later part (Rezort and IO, respectively, on Netflix. IO was far better but Rezort had the best chase scene since Vanishing Point, not even kidding. I screamed out loud.) I went to bed at one-thirty and was up promptly at eight-thirty, or maybe that was Sam's soft knock urging us to follow him.
He had coffee in thermoses at least. Bless him. I sucked almost a whole one back and then decided I was ready to listen but he was almost done. It was cold, about seventeen degrees and I'm up to my ankles in the icy Pacific, short-shorts and a huge sweater and bedhead because that's fashion for me as of late. Underneath it the ever-present pink bikini.
I look around as the caffeine lights the fire in my veins and I think this is my life now and it's awesome.