the late-sleeper inferiority complex continues, PLUS: mosquitoes.

Brax,
I woke up this morning at around 9 and started reading my book, and the little girl in my book gets up extra early every day so she can take care of her chickens before school. Then I thought, my grandpa used to go to breakfast every day before work. Then I started thinking about how the Gilmore Girls go to breakfast. And isn't it nice? They go to breakfast together every day! Before work and school! I got sort of enchanted with the idea of getting up early enough to do stuff before the stuff you have to do. There are people out there who get up every morning, like, waaaay before they need to, just so they can do stuff in the morning.

Well.

I wish I could be like that. It seems so goddamn wasteful to sleep til 8:30 or 9 every day (if I've been drinking, 11:30). It's my natural cycle to wake up at 8:30 or 9, and I feel the happiest and the healthiest when I do this. Still. I was thinking about how nice it would be to have your day start all early-like. My mom gets up and takes the dog to the barn and visits all the animals and gives them treats. Then she reads the paper--all before work! I, on the other hand, when I had to be places in the morning (which I don't anymore) used to barely get up with enough time to shower, and I was usually 15 minutes late anyway. And I HATED IT. Hate. Ed. It.

So. Anyway, I am obviously not going to be one of those people, but wouldn't it be cool if I was? I'd wake up naturally at 6, and then have a cup of coffee and shower, and then I'd go to breakfast at Nancy's or something and I'd meet all the breakfast people there, because you know, the breakfast crowd at a restaurant is always a chummy group. I'd read the paper, and then I'd go to my job, which in this scenario is in New England in the autumn. My job is, obviously, something I wouldn't hate. Maybe I'd be a woodworker! Yeah. I'd take my dog with me to my wood working workshop. After breakfast. In New England. In autumn.

OK, back to the real world. I have 52 mosquito bites. No shit--52.

This seriously Gets My Goat.


The mosquitoes are really bad this year because of all the rain in June (12 inches! 3 times the usual amount), plus living by the river. I am a mosquito magnet. Instead of a bug zapper, just take me to the picnic with you. They always eat me alive. I've read somewhere that certain people have a yummy, yummy pheromone that makes mosquitoes want to eat them. I have this pheromone. I would say I got about half these bites on my parents' front patio on Wednesday night when you and Zach and I drank wine until 4:30 AM and you guys wouldn't believe me that that light in the east was the sun. The other half, I believe, I either got at Osprey Lake or on the patio of our Cheers.

Wherever they came from, I hate them. I've been all ate up all summer, but this here takes the cake. I don't like to use OFF or whatever because I just plain don't like chemicals. So I went ahead and got some of the Burt's Bees Natural Insect Repellent. It's a bunch of stinky oil that bugs don't like, like castor oil, rosemary oil, citronella oil, cedar oil, and peppermint oil. Yes--I personally smell like a giant citronella candle. I don't give a shit, I'm wearing this crap every single day until the first frost. I'm bathing in it. Those little jerks are going to have to eat someone else for a change. I'll let you know if it works.

Bruce