There are two ways I could look at this. I could say that I just took an unintended vacation or I could say I was a failure. I originally intended to claim unintended vacation but this morning�s been so strange that I�d rather say I was a failure. Whatever it was, there was no entry yesterday because while I was waiting for my turn at the computer, I fell asleep on the living room floor. After I awoke, I decided to go with the flow and go to bed. Yes, folks, I cared more about sleeping than about you.

(Hey, I guess there�s another way to look at it. I suspect this way is the most fun. It�s certainly the one that Kat would pick. It�s the na-na-na-boo-boo way. Got you, so there�and you don�t even know what you�ve done and you don�t even care.)

As for this morning, it�s not even 8:00 and it has had more adventure than I wanted from the entire day. Remember the sick birds? The ones that have to be caught and medicated twice a day? The ones I will NOT agree to be pecked and scratched by? Well, Mr. Philately did not have a very good grip on Pete (I think. Perhaps it was Bud.) this morning. Pete was feeling enough better that when Mr. Philately loosened his grip, Pete flew away�and came within inches of my head in his flight.

Being Pete, his escape attempt was about as efficacious as those of my clients. No, he didn�t run directly into the arms of a waiting police officer. Being Pete, he ran headfirst into the wall. Blam! He dropped�right into the corner of the open closet where Mr. Philately had one of his infamous piles of boxes, papers, and other assorted �stuff.� Mr. Philately had to coax him gently, grab him, and check that he was okay. Unfortunately (from my perspective), he apparently was.

All this excitement counterbalanced my dull, sleepy evening. Given my druthers, I�d take the quiet evening. This morning was enough to make me want to go back to bed.

But then I would not have managed to post this. Once again I�d have to say, �Na-na-na-boo-boo� because somehow, someway, it�s all your fault. And if you can�t follow that logic, you�re not a teenager.

LAST YEAR: The Neurotic Neurologist

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Copyright 2006 by Ellen