I don’t picture myself as lame (who does?), but not only am I planning on taking a nap today, I’m looking forward to it.
Last night I put my book down and turned off the light at 11, then tossed and turned until the alarm went off early this morning. On my way to meet a friend for our weekly bicycle ride, I tried to convince myself I must have slept some and would wake up once I started riding. But no, I yawned all through the ride, and now I’m rushing to get a little blogging in before hitting the rack again.
Tomorrow morning I’m setting trail for a bicycle hare & hounds ride through central Tucson and the university district. Usually, if I’m going to not sleep, it’ll be the night before one of these events. I get anxious about staying ahead of the pack and not getting caught. It’s a little like not being able to sleep before a check flight or an important test. There was no reason for anxiety when I went to bed last night; I don’t know why I couldn’t sleep. I hope it was just my mind going into panic mode 24 hours early, and that the heebie-jeebies don’t visit again tonight.
Here’s a nice photo from the big monsoon rainstorm two nights ago:
Don’t scoff. Rain in Tucson is a big deal … I could probably sell this photo to Arizona Highways!
When I was putting stuff away in the garage after getting home from this morning’s ride, I noticed something odd about the license plate on Donna’s pimpmobile. Damn it, my daughter went and sprayed that reflective crap on it, the stuff they say tricks speed and red light cameras. Not only does the spray not work, having it on your plate marks you as ignorant redneck trash. I must have a talk with number one daughter.
A word of warning to my reading friends before I crawl into bed. Maybe because I wrote positive reviews of Stieg Larsson’s Millenium novels (The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, etc) a while back, people have been recommending other Scandinavian crime writers to me. So far, my reaction to these books has been a big meh. I realize now that my friends have been passing on reviews from booksellers … merchants trying to squeeze more profit out of the Stieg Larsson phenomenon. If you’re getting these pitches too, save your money. Cheap detective novels are all pretty much the same, no matter what language they were originally written in.
With that, to bed. Wish me luck with the bike trail tomorrow, okay?