Decadent Deprivation

Apparently, I was hosting a NASCAR event in my house this morning.  Aside from being fundamentally opposed to stock car racing as a matter of course, I suppose it wouldn’t have been so bad if the green flag hadn’t dropped at






I was jolted from the oddest dream as one of my feline dependents used my right breast as a launching pad for one of his paws, tore across the bed, and was most certainly followed by cat #2 in a tear-ass race to make it downstairs.  I distinctly heard a “whump!” followed by a hiss, more claws furiously grasping for purchase on the hardwood floors, and the sound of what I can only assume was one of them blowing a tire and having to head to the pits for repair.

Here’s the problem:  when I’m up, I’m up.  There’s no gentle linger as my body slips back into dreamland, no stolen 2 hours of slumber before the alarm goes off signaling “GYM TIME!”  I was undeniably, undoubtedly, and inarguably


It’s really quite pathetic to go to the gym at 3AM.  Actually, I don’t know why I’d call it pathetic.

I pathetically went to the gym.

After serving hard time on the elliptical machine followed by a parole stint on the recumbent bike, I sprung myself from the fitness pokey around 4:30AM and meandered back to my abode.

Huh.  Weekly grocery delivery still wasn’t there.  Okey dokey.

I did see, though, that the sun was starting to come up in the East.  The sun caused the outline of the mountains in the distance to sport a honeyed glow as the remaining night sky threatened to fade into the decadent hues of indigo that reminded me of sleep deprived.

I can’t tell you the last time I sat on my front porch, but this morning, I did.  It was probably before hell moved into Vegas for the summer like some godforsaken snowbird, but it had definitely been awhile.  I sat with my book (current read: “We” by Robert Johnson), cradled by an avocado green patio chair and over the course of the next hour, I watched the birth of yet another day come into view.  Between paragraphs and absorbing thoughts on the psychology of “we,” I forgot about sleep lost and feelings of feline robbery.  With each glimpse I took of the horizon, with every centimeter of amber that became flame and then yielded to familiar tones of sky blue, I became even more glad that I was sitting there on my porch at that hour.

I think as I said in the last installment of Redheaded Fury that I find the greatest pleasures in life not from those times where I’ve scheduled myself into oblivion and primed myself for the predictable.  Rather, those times where I’m thrown-off by “life” force me to open my eyes to something I would have otherwise not seen.

I could have gotten up at 4:30AM as I have all week, thrown on my gym clothes, gone for a run or whatnot, and gone about the usual morning routine that eventually leads me to my daily grind.  Not today, though.  A not-so-gentle mammary maiming led me to one of the most peaceful mornings ever, and admittedly, it wasn’t by my own design.

My groceries finally arrived.  They were out of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, so my delivery guy threw-in some free samples (bless his heart) … 4 chocolate milks, a brick of sharp cheddar, a tub of cookie dough (DOH!), and some extra veggies.

I hope they’re out of the cookies next week, too.