In the Morning

Yes, it's morning: When the whole world sings, when freshness and newness prevail, when one is left feeling inspired, warmed, ready to take on the day. Energy abounds, optimism reigns supreme. Just not for me, that's all. I'm still tired. I'm going to get a bit more sleep. Good night.

So Much for That

And so, then, we bring to a close my attempt to get a little more sleep. I'm just nodding off when the phone rings. Could it be an important call I've been waiting for? I'm not waiting for any call in particular, but could it be an important call I didn't know I was waiting for? Could it be the police, finally catching up with me for that peanut I stole from a bulk-foods bin twenty-five years ago? Could it be Manitoba Lotteries telling me that, darn it, their computer goofed and I actually won the 32 million in last week's Lotto 649 drawing? Could it be CJOB radio telling me that they've been listening to my radio show and are so impressed that they've just got, got, got to hire me at fifty grand a week? Holy baflurgons, that'd be cool. But no, oh no, it's none of the above. Nor is it the Coca-Cola company telling me that because I've been so loyal to them, they're installing a pipeline linking the storage tanks at the bottling company to a tap inside my house. Neither is it my boss telling me that, for a job well done, I get the rest of the year off. No, it's two things: (a) a telemarketer; and, moreover, (b) a telemarketer who got the wrong number. A dreadfully lethal combination. But did I display anger, agrievement, or even the sarcasm which is my trademark? No, dear reader, I did not. I was the very model of civility, politely telling the excrescence that he had the wrong number, calmly hanging up the phone, and only then did I allow myself to think what I'd like to do with the necks of all telemarketers worldwide. I can't remember what this involved exactly, but I do believe there was a great deal of snapping in the plan: the transference of various heads to new bodies, followed by the melodious sound of tractor tires on human flesh. Something to that effect, anyway, and I remember feeling that this would be letting said telemarketers off rather easily.
And so now, here I sit. I know I won't fall back to sleep, so why try? Maybe I'l write an LJ entry instead. No wait, I appear just to have done so. Well waddaya know? Maybe I'll start this week's radio show instead. Should be a good one, if you'd care to join me tomorrow at 6:00 PM Central.