Mental

If you haven't figured it out by now you never will.  I just got done with my evening's shopping, my bipolar roller moments of the day.  I figured why not get more cotton percale sheets as they don't wrinkle.  This was instigated by me after discovering that one of the cats, most likely Gonif/Leif, had puked under the covers of the bed.  He likes to crawl under the blankets during the day, burrowing beneath the quilt to a warm position and of course if you must puke why move.  So at 1030 I am changing the bed and reversing the quilt so that all the shedded cat fur is harder to detect.  And two of the three cats are sacked out currently on the bed.  We are watching football, switching to baseball.  Cubs won tonight and here is hoping that they make it to the NLCS.

So my bipolar expression consists of compulsive shopping and lack of sleep, the two now conflated with the ending of the day.  I am tired but not sleepy (nor Doc or Dopey) (and really did the seven dwarfs have those names?).  Well, having given away a few quilts I replenished. my stash tonight with neutral colors that won't show fur as badly as the current quilt.  They were cheap and the sheets are straw color.  It's important that the colors coordinate as I am a whore to style.  I have paintings yet to be hanged that coordinate with my color scheme.  All of this is very important.  Percy and Phyllis will hang those paintings this weekend.  And Percy will install the compulsively purchased sound bar.  And then I am done, or am I.?

Alrighty then.  Gonif is literally climbing the wall standing on tiptoes while balanced on the headboard of the bed, another reason to stay awake as I might have missed that golden vision.  Actually the boys are nearly ready for bed, save for Simcha/Sven who collapsed on the couch hours ago in a move to conserve energy.  The two older boys sleep with me while Simcha visits us later in the evening/morning, usually accompanied by a few well placed hisses from Yankel/Lars.

Gonif is staring at Yankel which usually precedes a tussle.  Tussle, that is a great word.  Sophie and I were exchanging good words today.  Peckish, toothsome, tussle, formication, all good words rarely used of late, to which auto fill has entered Puckish, which is also a good word.  I love words.  I used to keep a dictionary by my bed when I was growing up for fear I wouldn't know the exact meaning of a word and if I didn't know the exact meaning of a word I would look it up compulsively.  I would also jump up and down from the couch to check the dictionary in the den while watching television with Grandma and Dad.  I consider myself something of a wordsmith because of this peculiar habit.  I recall one of my favorite Hanukkah gifts was a Webster's Dictionary.  One day I would like to have my own OED but I really don't have the bookcase room for such a large tome.

Tonight I have my bite splint in as I am wearing down my teeth by constant grinding.  When I first broke my leg I was gritting my teeth so hard my jaw ached.  I have almost worn my front teeth down to the nub.  So tonight I am grinding on a plasticine mouth guard.  I usually end up taking it out during the night, misplacing it in my stupor.  Stupor, what a great and descriptive word.

Well the dishwasher has finished running so I might as well take the dishes out and put them away.  Maybe get a juice.  And wait.  Wait for sleep that may or may not come.  Sleep don't fail me now.