Why was I up at 6:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning?
At 5:45, I lay in bed, getting up for about the third time, when I debated going back to bed or declaring myself awake. Truth be told, I don't count myself awake until I get my intravenous coffee drip.
I try to go back to bed, but my nose is plugged and my back hurts, so I go for the coffee. It's a problem I've had for a few days. Oregon is beautiful, but it can wreak havoc on the sinuses.
As I write this I've been up 2- 1/2 hours, and it's only 8:30. No wonder I get tired early.
I turn on local television news and it brings back many unhappy memories. I feel sorry for the poor bastards who have to get up early on the weekends and produce a newscast that almost no one will watch.
I used to be one of those poor bastards, so I know.
I change the channel and take another stroll down memory lane. I'm watching VH1-classic, and an 80's theme show on. I was a teenager then. I find myself singing along to Chaka Khan.
I feel for you
I think I love you.
Words by His Royal Badness--The Artist formerly known as the Artist now once again known as Prince--Stevie Wonder with the assist on a harmonica solo.
Man, what big hair and colorful clothes people wore then. Back in the day, my hair was big but short, and I wore a lot of hot pink.
My, how I've grown. My how gravity has kicked me in the butt.
Maybe tonight, I'll take an ibuprofen, and a decongestant, so I can get some sleep. But I have to get up early tomorrow anyway.