I'll take Randomosity for 500, Alex

I’m thrilled to bits that I’ve nada on my calendar today. Yeah sure, appearing on my To Do list is: work, gym, laundry, wedge clay, pay bills and dinner with Jen and Oni BUT nothing else. Yippee! This means that I don’t have to drive into Boston. I don’t have to work at reading anyone’s lips or focus on health issues. I can spend quality time with my purr machine, Coco. I can sit on the seawall later, without a coat or sweater even, and soak up some sun!
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Yesterday was my annual with Doc McKenna – the AMAZING Beach Boy neuro-otologist. The visit always includes a hearing test which is, unfailingly, frustrating and disappointing. It's a test I can't study for or cheat. I KNOW that I’m nearly, if not completely deaf (there’s that remaining microscopic thread of sound) but still, I expect to do better. I figure I should to be able to suss out, when they speak words into the headphones, the difference between football and raincoat.

Can I? Nein. I am able to identify birthday cake though. Wut? Not surprised? Yeah, me neither.

In any case, seeing Mike was five zillion kinds of awesome. He’s such a good listener. I invariably talk too much, tell too many stories and feel like I’ve been a breathtakingly dramatic fool but he likes me and does get a few dozen words in edgewise. Really.
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Advisor to who, about what? Is this snark? Should I pull along side, mime roll-down-your-window and ask the driver for stock tips and restaurant recommendations?
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Chocolate espresso “martini” – the description of this was the ONLY good thing about that crap sci-fi/fantasy paperback I’d attempted to read. I’ve enjoyed other reeling, ripping yarns by this same author so I totes expected a shit-ton more. I’d anticipated getting lost in her wild world. Time would vanish. I’d pick up Grimrose in the evening only to see, after finishing just one more chapter, the sunrise.

Ah...no.

I found that, at least once per page, I’d rock the editor role: oh no, that sentence doesn’t read clearly at all. You need commas and to move this word/phrase before that and....fuck, lemme just do a rewrite.

The novel's now in the Goodwill pile and I haz a sad.

There is, however, a stack of unreads by my bed just waiting to be cracked. Somewhere in there is the escapist dream I need.
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Coco’s new thing – waking me by scent marking the shit outta my head. Normally, blindingly good kitten that she is, she mounts my hip and just patiently sits or sleeps there until I deign to get up and start the day.

And anotha thing – she also continues to have NO respect for my damn personal space. Hmmmph.

Hi, my name is Donna and I AM the epitome of Cat Doormats.
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Apparently it’s now dangerous to nap while black IN YOUR VERY OWN GODDAMN DORM!!!

Will Mueller Time and the midterm election tsunami happen soon enough? No. Will it happen at all? Can we slap the shit out of and jail 45, his crime family, all his rapacious cronies and minions? Will the rug be pulled out, fast and hard, from under the emboldened racist piles of polecat dung? When can we begin the repair of our defiled and disgraced country?

 Will there be a morning after (yes, I went there). I WANNA KNOW!