Ma in her kerchief and I in my cap

by Peter Tyrrell Tuesday, September 27, 2005 10:13 AM

I was driving this morning at an ungodly hour: tired, sleepy and also not very awake. I know some people think sunrise is a glorious trumpeting wonderment of an event and their heart skips tra-la within their chests in eagerness at meeting the challenges of a brand new day, whereas I would trade it all for a dirty blanket by the garbage can and my underpants stuffed with newspapers if it meant I could have another hour of sleep.

So anyway I'm driving through the fog, the fog being mostly stuck to the inside side of the windshield and nothing will make it go away, nothing, not the air on high, not the sleeve of my fleece, not my burning glare of irritation which I would have thought would act like a radioactive blowdryer, nothing, and suddenly, I find myself muttering about how come they only sell seedless watermelon nowadays, dammit.

Um... what?

It was clear that somebody else was using my brain while my attention was otherwise occupied in very important grumpywork. And not to its full potential, either. Some sort of... tinfoil hat might be in order. Or getting to bed earlier could be the right way to go. Or both. Just to cover all eventualities.


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