New Fluff Arrival

If you've read any of my blog posts on books or genres I like to read, or are a fairly close personal friend, you know I tend to read 3-5 books at a time. Usually I read different genres to simplify keeping up with plots, story lines, and information gathering. You also know I tend to be fairly eclectic but lean more heavily toward novels of suspense, thriller, legalese, sifi, fantasy,  and mysteries.  I have also been known to pick up the occasional (very occasional mind you) biography or true crime story--but usually only if it's written by a favorite author. Then there is my spiral-bound, color-photo laden, cookbook collection. Spiral bound for ease of use. Color photos so I can see what it's supposed to look like. And cookbook, because I am always in search of a mouthwatering, easy to fix, delight to the taste buds offering that would make Gordon Ramsay and his ilk declare me the winner of any cooking contest--except Worlds Worst Chef. Without having seen a show like that, I'm pretty sure, if entered, I could win it hands down. I am a kitchen menace. But I digress.

My current reads are limited to three: a book for my spiritual journey and its companion workbook for growth, an educational book for my own personal and professional edification,  and a mindless romp in some fluff--this is my term for what the industry terms "cozies" whether they have an "off screen" murder or not. The current fluff has murder included.

Not only am I down in the number of simultaneous reads, I'm struggling with completing the two non-fluff books I'm reading.  But, the good news is I'm racing through my To Be Read fluff stack.  So of course I'm finding more ways to ramp up my To Be Read stacks.

As my current fluff journey draws  rapidly to a vapid end--an end  I could predict two thirds of the way in--my heart has been warmed by Amazon Prime:  they informed me this morning my latest order would be delivered today.

After cleaning the floors last night I rewarded myself by ordering  two fluffy books and a package of three dual-action microfiber mopheads.  I purchased them with some of my PrimeRewards, so they were "free" to me.  Since I cleaned the floors last night, guess what I'll be doing tonight...

A new read arriving on my doorstep the morning of the day I would need it? Was it fate? Was it perfect timing?  Or was it creepy SpyWare?

This bookish girl could get used to that action--as long as it wasn't creepy spyware.

Almost.

As long as it was fate or perfect timing. The spyware thing is a little more concerning.

I wonder...

Since they: Amazon, Facebook, Google, and the techie  industry et al, are stalking my every keystroke, verbalization, and thought--or so it seems--and they seem to be able to anticipate my every need, even before I actually knoh w I need something, can they do that with all my needs?

If they can, I would never have to put on my bra and shoes and face crowds, long checkout lines, self-check lines that bark at me, mathmatically challenged cashiers, or  rude, obnoxiously overbearing salespeople ever again. All of which are the reason I had redeemable PrimeRewards.

This world-weary girl could get used to the absence of shopping stress.

Except...

Are Hal 2001 and Jeeves, becoming the new Mr. Right? Ugh. The horror.

Are Google Girl and  Alexa the tech-version of blond-haired, blue-eyed cheerleader types we loathe, but secretly want to be? I don't know if I'm smart enough or tech-savy enough to get away with her demise.

All this convenience is still a little too BigBrotherOrwellian for this paranoid girl.

Besides, I'm down to my last DDP and as fast as they are, I'm thinking Prime can't deliver in the next twenty minutes. Now UberEats or WaitR are a couple of horses of other colors....

Alas, they would only be a bandaid fix.

I need face the facts: I must put on my Big Girl Panties (and bra and shoes) and go to a Family Reunion--besides, I haven't seen any of My People in a while.

Well, except on You Tube.

Bad Form

Just checking..."for a friend"...is it bad form to take an afternoon nap at 5pm, then go to bed for reals before sunset? 

Here's the background:  Thursday, after work,  I cleaned house and washed clothes. I got a few hours sleep.

Friday I packed, loaded up the SUV, gased it up and drove to Florida for my 42nd HS Reunion Dinner. (Where has the time flown?!)

I'm no longer on speaking terms with GPS-Girl because on the way to Florida  she sent me on 2 wild goose detours that increased my drive time by 2.5 hours.  We arrived at our hotel after 2am and as soon as the SUV was unloaded and the boys stuff was unpacked we all fell into bed.

Friday morning I drove to Mamas and visited with her, then headed back to the hotel to clean up for the dinner.

I had a blast catching up with friends, then I headed back to the hotel. I actually packed very light this trip. Just enough pieces to make 4 outfits (travel outfits for Friday and Sunday, an outfit for Saturday, and a dinner outfit for Saturday evening.  Nothing fancy. They all color cordinated. Martha Stewart and the Light Packing Gurus would have been proud).

Unfortunately someone got sick this trip and I needed to wash clothes and pet bedding. I finished up the wash about 2am. 

My 10-12 hour drive home last night turned into 17 hours due to traffic and road construction from Alabama all the way through Lousiana.

GPS-Girl really is on my list-- cd and I guess she's not speaking to me either becayse at one point, after we had been parked on I-10 for about an hour she dinged and infirmed me there was a 30 minute traffic delay. Ya think?! 

During this delay, our top soeed was 10 mph.  Several folk decided they were too good to follow the rules of the road. They started by ones and twos, then 8 motorcycles passed on the shoulder. All in all about 30 self-important idiots drove on the shoulder rather than suffering on the I-10 Interstate Parking Lot like the rest of us--they may have arrived home before us--but the immature kid inside me really hopes not.  Where is a cop handingbnb out tickets when you need one?!

I called my Supervisors phone and left a message to request a couple hours leave for this morning when, after 11 hours of driving I still had not made it to the halfway point.  The upside is, once I actually made it to the halfway point I was able to make fairly good time.

We finally rolled into town at 3:30am. 

I took a four hour nap for insurance purposes (they pay 90% of the CPAP rental and supplies, if I pass my probation time--during which I have to be on the CPAP a minimum of 4 hours each night. I can miss a couple nights a month, but I forgot to turn the stupid thing on twice and only got 3 hours one night, so I'm walking a really thin line this month--I can't miss any more time.).

I made it to work, and had a busy day.  Mondays are killer, 'cause I do everything from Friday afternoon through Monday--which is basically the work for half of the week--all on Monday. It's killer-busy, but I usually don't have time to get into too much trouble on Mondays. 

Usually.

Some days I manage to get into trouble anyway. 😉

By the time I drove home after work I was so tired I was seeing things.

Really.  Like clearly defined faces on the door handles of a car behind me--I saw them reflected in my rearview mirror.

And the bear cub in the back seat of the SUV in front of me.

I know they were just lights and shadows, but sleep deprivation and driving don't mix, so I was glad when I arrived home safe and sound.

It was so hot Moggy didn't want to go outside. Bandit did. He was also so excited to see me he jumped  up and down so vigiorously  he sent himself into a coughing fit and lost his balance. You never would have known we had just spent 72 hours together.  I squatted down, picked him up, and carried him to the bedroom.  The trip took its toll on all of us.  He and I are running a tight race as to who will be the last to recover. We all piled onto my bed and took a short nap to catch our second wind.

Now revived, I'm making dinner and writing this blog post. Bandit went outside to potty. And  Moggy, well,  Moggy is the youngster  of the group, but he doesn't like extremes in temperature.  He has decided to remain inside and use the litter box.

Since I had a short nap before 5pm, is it bad form to go back to bed before the sun sets?

I don't think we care. As soon as the casserole is done and I've given this a quick typo check, we're going back to bed. Bad form or not.

Nighty-night.

Mine!

Sitting at the desk, I heard Moggy making a noise on the bed behind me. It took a second before I identified the sounds...ripping and shredding.

Hummm.....Ripping  and shredding might be a "not so good thing." Kind of a reversal of a Martha Stewart proclamation.  This would bear further investigation.

It turned out I worried too much--he had found a wadded up sterile dressing wrapper I had not tossed into the trash.   It was now partially shredded.

Moggy is an intuitive cat, and he sensed something might be awry just after I turned around. He looked up to see me looking at him, and I burst out laughing.

His face registered the most guilty look I have ever seen on anyone in my life--human, canine, or feline--and I have seen some guilty faces. In fact, I can neither confirm nor deny, but I may, or may not, have sported a guilty face or thousand myself in my growin' up years.  If officially asked, I'll plead the Fifth. 

In this moment, Moggy looked and acted so human I was hard-pressed to remember he's not human. In fact, his facial expression was one of a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

But that wasn't funny enough...

As I contemplated the possibility of locating my phone and snapping a photo before  he changed position (it didn't happen), he  lifted his paw from the paper shreds, spread his toes (keeping the claws tucked inside like a good boy), and ever so slowly streched his foreleg out over the paper-- and claimed the shreds as his own.

I could almost hear him thinking,  after all, you lazily tossed them on the bed rather than walk the ten feet to the trash basket. Since the paper didn't make it into the trash, Moggy obviously felt  the wraper was his newest play-toy.

To cement the deal he pulled the shreds ever so slighty toward himself, as if to say, You can not have these.  They are mine!