Late Night Alarms

4:20 a.m.  An alarm - I think a burglar alarm - at some business in my neighborhood has being going off for the better part of the last hour.  So needless to say I'm pretty much awake for the day.  Add to that Truckstop's being very talkative tonight and you get a fair picture of how restful this night's been.

I can't tell where this fucking noise is coming from. Thankfully, it's suddenly stopped.  Alas, it's done that before, however, so who knows how long the respite will last.

Funny -- in the sudden quiet (for when is it ever really quiet here?) -- I can hear a car alarm going off in the distance.  Very faint.  I wonder if the owner's neighbors are as close to homicide as I feel right now?

Truckstop is outside on my window sill exploring the fire escape.  I wonder what he's staring at; he's in one of his pre-attack poses.  Maybe a bird?

I got up to go to the fridge, and he started crying to be let in.  Hey, it's, like, 30° out there -- I'm not leaving the window open!  So when I opened the window to let him back in, he took a swipe at me and tried to bite me!  What's up with that, I wonder?!?

I'm afraid the sad truth is that he's a  wild animal, and I'm never, ever going to understand him.  I guess the truth is that cats, unlike dogs, aren't truly domesticated animals.  They have their own agenda.  One of my favorite sayings is, "Dogs are companions.  Cats are employers."

Man, check out that picture above.  I've lost a lot of weight - I think I'm getting back to just under 150 pounds - but my face still looks incredibly fleshy to me.  Amy Hartman would insist I have an eating disorder, so I shouldn't be trusted to judge myself.

I'm just beginning to think that as I get older, I don't look older, I just look fatter.  I'll always have the baby face, but when I'm 70, I'm gonna look like a plump little baby again.

Or maybe I'm just psycho.