Senseless Sunday Sarcasm : Trying

Really…I’m trying to write a post. 

My brain wants to sleep, but the body is saying, “No!  I want to watch another mindless video!”

So here I sit, but instead of my writing mascot — who is presently sulking — the Tiny Terror is gracing me with his presence.  More to the point, he’s next to his favorite cat treats.

He sleeps near the speakers, listening to meditation music and guarding the greenies.

Chilly Coon Kitty does not like it when my attention is turned toward another cat.  It’s like having children all over again, except they have 4 legs and can’t hit each other over the head with golf clubs.

I have a theory:  Thanksgiving turkey pulls the writer’s creativity right out of me.  Is it possible for L-tryptophan to cause writer’s block?  Turkey is full of it.

Or it could be Post Traumatic NaNoWriMo syndrome?

It can’t possibly have anything to do with overeating at Thanksgiving, and the day after, and the day after, and being in so much pain I can’t think.

I prefer the tryptophan explanation; it’s exotic (sort of like oyster stuffing).  


My stomach says, “Don’t go there!”

My brain says, “The fridge is 20 steps away.”

Since I’m not a fan of upchucking all night, let’s talk about cats.

D@m#%d humans!

Or not.

I’m going to play a game of Spades with a dinosaur, an alien, and Jack, then retire for the night.

Hoyle Card Games 2003: Solitaire and Spades - YouTube

And I ain’t lion.

My apologies for this post:  If I were any more boring, I’d have to be in a coma.