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I had the most bizarre dream earlier this week: I was a serial killer. I attacked and killed my friends, disposed of the evidence, and evaded capture and suspicion. Toward the end of the dream I realized that I was dreaming and didn't want to be seeing and doing such horrific things. I don't remember exactly who I killed and even if I did, I probably wouldn't tell you because (1) I don't want the victims to worry and (2) I want everyone to feel paranoid. Heh.
As noted elsenet, Margie tried to kill me last night. I got up in the wee hours for a, uh, wee and realized the upstairs bath was out of toilet paper. I headed downstairs and felt something soft and furry underfoot on the first step. She squeaked, I eeped, and, thankfully, had enough presence of not-awake mind to grab for the rail before surfing down the stairway. Margie got away and I slid down only a couple of stairs. By that point I was wide awake. When I gained composure, I checked the shaken cat and determined she was okay. I was mostly okay aside from sore shoulder muscles. Perhaps she will learn that the next to top stair is not primo sleeping space when the humans are supposed to be in bed.
It's been a slow news week and I've been cruising about the blogosphere. I've found many fashion and home decor blogs, a few beauty blogs, and a handful of Fat Acceptance/Health at Every Size blogs. I find the FA/HAES blogs thought-provoking and they've caused some inner turmoil as I'm working to shed excess weight and inches. I'm torn because I feel like I should be satisfied and appreciative of the body I have now but I'm looking ahead to the smaller body I'll have later this year or next year. The brain meats are still percolating on this. I may try and explore it, or I may decide this is all too first-world-problem-esque and leave it be.
As noted elsenet, Margie tried to kill me last night. I got up in the wee hours for a, uh, wee and realized the upstairs bath was out of toilet paper. I headed downstairs and felt something soft and furry underfoot on the first step. She squeaked, I eeped, and, thankfully, had enough presence of not-awake mind to grab for the rail before surfing down the stairway. Margie got away and I slid down only a couple of stairs. By that point I was wide awake. When I gained composure, I checked the shaken cat and determined she was okay. I was mostly okay aside from sore shoulder muscles. Perhaps she will learn that the next to top stair is not primo sleeping space when the humans are supposed to be in bed.
It's been a slow news week and I've been cruising about the blogosphere. I've found many fashion and home decor blogs, a few beauty blogs, and a handful of Fat Acceptance/Health at Every Size blogs. I find the FA/HAES blogs thought-provoking and they've caused some inner turmoil as I'm working to shed excess weight and inches. I'm torn because I feel like I should be satisfied and appreciative of the body I have now but I'm looking ahead to the smaller body I'll have later this year or next year. The brain meats are still percolating on this. I may try and explore it, or I may decide this is all too first-world-problem-esque and leave it be.
