Muddled

That’s me this morning muddle brained. It’s just 8AM and already 80.º We’re due for 90+ temps ALL fucking week. As much as possible, I’ll be up in my ACed boudoir. Coco, on the other hand, will be downstairs, stretched full out in her attempts to catch a natural breeze. Our girl is def NOT a fan of refrigerated air.

Last night, for “tea” Oni made some positively wondrous fruity adult bev. Forgetting that he magics up a powerful elixir, I had two. Yeah, bad idea. I came home and fell into a deep-ass slumber, waking at 8:30. Was it AM or PM? Either way, I was wide awake and a murky light was playing at my window

Disorientation City.

I came downstairs, commenced with my usual morning flurry of cleaning, only to find that it was indeed PM, not AM. Oh. FUCK.

Well then. I hate to waste my rare sentient moments so I kept up with the tidying, the laundry and dishes until I got the text from Morpheus – he was due in on the midnight train (from Georgia?).

K but I was still kinda wired. Maybe cracking one of my new books would fairy me off to Dream Land. I’d hit the livre emporium earlier in the day and picked up a fantasy/horror thang, a murder mystery and Michael Chabon’s 2016 latest –  Moonglow.

Michael Chabon’s new book is described on the title page as “a novel,” in an author’s note as a “memoir” and in the acknowledgments as a “pack of lies.” This is neither as confusing nor as devious as it might sound, since “Moonglow” is less a self-conscious postmodern high-wire act than an easygoing hybrid of forms.
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and also about mental illness, snake hunting, the Holocaust and rocket science — and he may not have wanted to be bound too tightly by the constraints of literal accuracy in telling it. (source)

Sounds fun and I absolutely LOVED Mysteries of Pittsbugh and The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay but haven’t fallen anywhere near as deply in love with his other books. At all. Chabon’s work, for me, is either a rock solid, can’t-put-it-down hit or an extreme miss.

Deep puzzlement ensued as I attempted to choose my sleep inducement aid.

Night Terrors by Tim Waggoner, described in a cover blurb as Men In Black meets The Sandman, won. No, the writing’s not brill and there are holes in the narrative BUT, at 1AM that could all be overlooked in favor of wicked escapism with a strong female protagonist.

I’m trying to get a plan in gear for dealing with the week's extreme heat. Possibly, I’ll be doing little else besides reading crap in the AC, grunting at Jen and sweating buckets. Yes, I AM a charmer.