First of all, I had so much work to do today, and rather than making me extra productive, this usually results in procrastination paralyzation. I sat there in my pajamas reading blogs for a good hour before I made myself take a shower, get dressed, and haul ass to Starbucks to get work done.
The particular Starbucks I go to is about a 15 minute drive. There are two (maybe more) that are actually closer to me, but this is the only one that I can "get in the zone at". I ordered my drink, got my table and propped open my Mac and . . . where is the internets? Internet man down. Ugh.
So I went home and set up shop at my dining room table, vowing to actually be productive. But the dog had to go out. And then he had to come in. And then he had to howl at leaves blowing in the yard. So annoying. But then I remembered what I bought the other day:
Doggy downers. I bought these because we've been getting a lot of storms lately and Wilbur is terrified of thunder, and I thought these might help. Because he was crazy hyper today and I had so much work to do, I thought . . . why not? So I gave him a couple and he quickly drifted off into dreamland, where i'm sure he had some crazy drug-influenced dreams.
With beagle safely sedated, I got to work on an article that is due tomorrow. Typity, type, type, EARTHQUAKE.
Wtf? Of course, at the time I didn't know that it was an earthquake. Here is my stream of consciousness:
-Am I having a panic attack? Why do I feel like the room is shaking?
-Oh, the dog felt it too, I'm not imagining it. Is there a person trying to break in my house by drilling a giant hole through my roof?
-Must check Twitter!
That's literally what went through my head, in that order. Does this make you wonder about me?
Poor Wilbur, in his drug-induced haze, was jolted awake, kind of crouched low to the ground and then ran upstairs to hide. I have probably scarred him for life.
Anyway, here's a photo of the devastation, please send relief funds to my PayPal account: