Groggy

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A Galapagos tortoise. I’m so groggy I didn’t even think to write about my trip to the Galapagos for G. I think he looks just as groggy.

The only possible word for me today. Groggy. Nope, not hung over, unless one can be hung over on all-you-can-eat sushi, which, in that case then, yes.

I went to bed late and woke up at a time I decided wasn’t anywhere near appropriate and fell back asleep. And when I woke up again, my clock said 1-0-colon-0-0.

What?

I checked all available purveyors of time. Yep. 10:00. TEN AM. With vague memories of Brad Pitt in my dreams (Brad Pitt?! Why Brad Pitt? Definitely not my cup of Hollywood Celebrity. I’m more of a Nathan Fillion/Mario van Peebles/Eric Balfour/Brad James/Men Who Appear to Enjoy the Sci-Fi in which They Appear kinda gal) I leapt out of bed, but much more slowly than that and yes, spell check, I do mean the past participle of “leap.”

Ah, see? That’s the coffee kicking in. I do have some brain cells up there after all.

So I’m slogging through the day thus far, a day, according to the time, which is now past noon. Past noon. Past NOON.

Hopefully the grogginess will dissipate, leaving me bright-eyed and refreshed.

Yeah, I don’t think so either.

Check out  my full-length novels: 

Aunty Ida’s Full-Service Mental Institution (by Invitation Only)   

Aunty Ida’s Holey Amazing Sleeping Preparation (Not Doctor Recommended) 

 Her Cousin Much Removed

 The Great Paradox and the Innies and Outies of Time Management.

And download Better Living Through GRAVY and Other Oddities, it’s free!

Peruse Montraps Publishing.

 

 

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