Midnight is fast approaching, and I really want to go to sleep. I’m back in my familiar spot, wasting hour after hour that I could be sleeping, wondering what the hell I could possibly come up with to sound interesting. I’ve been super boring for ages, and in the last several days, I stepped up my purely average game. I’m usually sitting quietly, crocheting. Or I’m washing dishes. Or I’m cheering at football on television. Or I’m glued to live congressional hearings. I’m not doing anything exciting to inspire breathless essays. I can’t even keep the neighbor dogs entertained. While T and I hooted and hollered at Monday night football, a rotating trio of dogs tried to claim my lap. They eventually gave up on me, and sacked out near me. A last-seconds-of-the-game interception in the end zone to hold on to a win wasn’t enough of a loud moment to stir Jasper. When you can bore a standard poodle this thoroughly, you can never claim to be an interesting human. Them’s the rules.
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