Hello and okay, I did not go back to sleep; I do not even have covers on me.  If you would like a visual, and, gee, who wouldn’t? – just think of me, AmeliaJake, coming onto the porch, rolling up a couple of afghans on one end of the sofa and then sitting at the other end with my feet propped up on the ‘ghans. Add in Emu boots, crossed at the ankle.

As I was typing that sentence, I started thinking of Der Bingle and his occasional remarks about my long sentences. I thought about breaking it up, but, oh, the heck with it. If that attitude is a barometer for the day, I’d say I’m in a fairly normal mood. Is barometer the word I want? Maybe I should choose harbinger. Whatever. I suppose that “whatever” – could you hear the sigh? – might be another indicator. Why do I feel as if I am on my way to a Gordon Ramsay expression without the good food?

And it is not even daylight yet.

Oh, by the way, I have forgotten to mention that I am officially a serf. A document showed up regarding my ancestors who came to America on the Thistle of Glasgow. They were serfs released to go, but if they came back they would be re-serfed.

Der Bingle always said I was a peasant. Not in a mean way, just matter-of-fact. And, I guess I do have short, stocky legs and don’t have much length to my neck.

It’s just after five in the morning and I am awake and wondering if I want to lay my ugly head down upon my wretched bed – oops, sorry there, a Muppet reference just hopped into the flow of my thought. Actually,  I feel like being a little sneaky here and getting something to drink and checking the news and then just easing back under the blankets.

Yesterday we had a series of snow squalls – mini blizzard things – with the temperature going up to the 20’s and then DOWN; today the same up and down pattern is predicted only with more snow. I’ve been talking so much about the weather, I need to get a barbershop pole and a bench with old men on it. More appropriate would be a big black stove with mismatched chairs around it – but I think the bench image was in a song once. There might have been a lyric about old women then talking about old men . . .

I’d say it’s time to go get that drink before my morning imagination really starts joining in.