Insomnia has been my ever-present friend these past few weeks. The drugs aren’t working as well anymore, so I don’t get to sleep until hours after I go to bed. bleh. Nevertheless, I’ve gotten some reading done, watched a few shows on the pyramids, Rome, Greece and seen most of Bride and Prejudice. Last night wasn’t any different; I was awake well into the wee hours and finally went to sleep.
Until the thunder came rolling in, then I was awake again for two hours, listening. I leapt out of bed when one huge strike hit the ground somewhere nearby, close enough to rattle the windows. Thankfully, we never lost power. Most of the thunder was of the low, rolling kind, which is actually kinda comforting.
I woke up late this morning, oversleeping is the curse of the insomniac; you only get to sleep right before you must wake. Oh well.
My cat, Moxie, insisted that I get up and feed her. She’s heavy enough that when she plunks down on my stomach I lose my breath, but she’s cheerful about it so I don’t mind. Moxie is very vocal and likes to make sure I know she’s ready to eat.
So, I get dressed, take care of personal business and go downstairs to feed the beast and make coffee. When I sit down to have my first cup I look outside to see the washed, dewy landscape of a summer morning after the midnight rain, and there in the middle of the yard is a doe eating the lower leaves off our mulberry tree. She’s lovely, dainty even, so I don’t scare her off, which I know Dad will the moment he sees her. He can’t stand that something would eat anything in our yard without invitation and that the deer may damage the trees. She leaves before he wakes up.
Later, I’m still drinking coffee and reading, Dad is also and he’s reading the morning paper, just enjoying a companionable silent morning sit. Out of nowhere, the outside dinner bell begins to ring. I turn in time to see a little brown wren clinging to the clapper cord desperate to figure out where this noise is coming from. She lets go and flies away. Then it was time to leave for work.