Early Saturday

I dreamed I was doing deliveries in a delivery van, one of those small, European vans, like a Peugeot Partner or a Citroen Kangoo. We were delivering parts, they seemed like electronic parts, is that because of all those endless robot clips Sam has been showing me lately? (Sam is fascinated with robots, me, not so much. I can’t really see what good they are going to do, you know, other than playthings for the very rich, or autonomous war machines) But it was the vans that were under scrutiny, that were being watched. ‘They’ were looking for one van in particular and all our vans were being checked to see if it was the van for which ‘they’ were looking. It was all very tense. We all felt like we were being accused of something?

4.45am. I woke up. I had to move Bruno. He had gone to sleep between my legs last night. In the night Bruno and Otto had moved into a position where I was pushed into an S shape. Yes, both 30 kilo bulldogs sleep on our bed now. It wasn’t the shape, although it was that too, it was the temperature of two bulldogs, one snuggled into my legs, and one snuggled into my back, both pushing me so I couldn’t move, contained in one spot, and I was overheating, which is what really woke me up. That and the tension about the delivery van.

I managed to move Bruno and Otto successfully, but by that stage I was awake. I had to throw off the doona to cool down. It was too early, sure, but I knew I wasn’t going back to sleep.

4.55am. I got up. It was still dark outside.

I made coffee.

5am. I was on the couch under the big pink blanket. I don’t really mind getting up early as I always think it is a time when I can write. However...

5.30am. Milo comes in. He’s always really visibly excited when the bulldogs aren’t around. He jumps up on the couch with me and rubs himself all over me. It’s kind of annoying really, as it is relentless. He's manic to get his moment, very un-cat-like, I tell him. I lie down on the couch and fashion the big pink blanket into a nest between my legs and Milo gets in there and curls up. And he is warm, he is soft, and he feels little and delicate.

This morning, I fell into the Facebook rabbit hole until 7am, the hours just disappeared until it was suddenly daylight outside. And no writing got done. I was watching the Facebook shorts, which just keep going, and the shorts kept showing me handsome guys, often in shorts, and Karen Walker, and I couldn’t tear myself away. Is that what social media is designed to do? Distract us from life? 

Okay, 5am there isn’t much life going on, but, I did YouTube, too much yesterday arvo, where I was far too interested in the US election, watching all the clips on Donald Trump like I am watching a car crash to the end. Why is that? We, as a nation, never used to be so interested in US politics. Did we? Is it because it is just such a potential horror story unfolding?

So many wasted hours.

I even bought myself a number of novels, recently, on my Kindle to move away from this YouTube thing, and I must remember them and read instead, I must remind myself to do that. Disappear into a good story, not some mindless nonsense. I know after reading good writing, my writing is so much better, it inspires me, consciously, or unconsciously, I can even feel it as I write.

Reading is listening and writing is speaking.

Anyway, I think we are going to take the dogs for a run down the river.

I should go for a bike ride too, that would please girl trainer.

Then I can lie on the couch guilt free. And isn't that what exercise is all about?