I just got the news that HSBF Scott is not only back on the Right Coast, but that he is living at his dad's house, not ten minutes from where we live, and working in my new town, not two minutes from where we live. In fact, I will drive by his new office this morning on my way to work.
Life is weird. Cool, but weird.
I totally missed the second half of Samantha Who last night. Haven't made it awake past 9:45 once yet this week. Saturday night, I blamed the sangria (did I mention yet how yummmmmmmmmmmmmy it was?), but Sunday and Monday nights...No such scapegoat. I just can't party like a rock star any more.
Unfortunately, my early sleep has been plagued by odd, odd dreams. Like, wake up at 4 am and make sure the doors are locked dreams. Not a good thing.
Last night's was a doozy, brought on, no doubt, by this news story about a five-year-old boy who accidentally killed his sister with their father's gun.
I read several different accounts of the story, and from all of them seem to gather that the gun was just sitting out on a shelf. A high shelf that the boy needed a stool to reach, but a shelf nonetheless. And it had apparently been there, on the shelf, unguarded, long enough that the boy knew to pull over a chair and climb on up to get it.
The news just made me feel sick. It's no wonder I had a migraine yesterday afternoon.
And, apparently, I'm ending on a down note today. Sorry about that. I'll try to do better next time. I promise. Once the image of kids and guns is out of my head.