Tuesday, September 03, 2002

Night Creeps in on Little Cat Claws

3 a.m.
Sleeping peacefully, awakened slightly by the nudge of a certain young tomcat.
I reached down to pet him and found his thin little ears were cold. I tried to bring him under the covers so he could get warmed up.
As I sleepily went to reposition him, something startled him and he went berserk, tearing across my thigh to get loose.
3:10 a.m.
Hard to get back to sleep with a laceration/puncture on my thigh. Started thinking about everything I have to do this week. Started thinking about the new coffee beans a friend brought me. Mmm, coffee.
3:33 a.m.
Coffee is perking. James is peacefully sleeping on rug next to me. I threw a wad of paper at him and awakened him with a start. Now he's giving himself a little bath, to show me he wasn't freaked out by the wad of paper. When he falls back to sleep, I will throw another wad of paper and reawaken him.
Anyway, while I'm here...
My blind date went well last night. She had pretty eyes and a great smile. Dinner lasted three hours. Her Toyota 4-Runner was spotlessly clean. She wasn't cowgirlish, which was a relief.
She's an ex cop, but she didn't look the part, thank God.
We are planning on going to the courthouse to watch a trial for fun. I have a few assistant D.A. friends I am going to call so they can suggest a really good one. We talked about the O.J. Simpson trial for a long time. I was in true crime heaven.
Outback Steakhouse was playing country music when we got there. Then they switched to 1960s music. She didn't know the names or artists of all the country songs, so that was a relief. Believe me, I asked.
The waitress was a lesbian and apparently figured out we too were lesbians, so the service was chummy and good. I accidentally ordered some kind of horrible peachy rum drink and she exchanged it for a big piƱa colada, for free. She told us about two other waitresses who were fighting over their apartment lease. The place was young drama lesbo central. I like that in a restaurant.
James fell back to sleep. I shook an aspirin bottle real loud. He lurched awake, then fell back to sleep. Then I threw another paper wad. He's staring at it angrily.
The opera Turandot has a lovely solo called, "Nessun Dorma." It means "nobody sleeps."
I'd play it for James right now, but my neighbor does sleep and it wouldn't be right to awaken him at this ungodly hour.
James is sleeping again, in a little ball. I haven't the heart to lob another paper wad at him. He's done his time.

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