A short pier

I am in a foul mood today for any number of reasons in which I feel perfectly justified, even if there are people suffering in Africa a million times more than I am. I have no sympathy for anyone right now.

Part of this attitude is probably due to the fact that because of my asthma and related health care insurance deficit, I was forced to sleep in a semi-upright position last night. I am a light sleeper to begin with and any disruption of optimum sleep position ensures a miserable night.

Still, I decided, once the dogs were cared for, I'd head back to bed for a quick nap. Threw the puppies out into the back yard, settled in and was just about to drift off when a deluge of rain began and I had to bring them back in. So I wasn't there when Gaspode started the preliminaries of a major vomit-fest. Usually I can get him out the back door before any major damage occurs, but since I was preoccupied with the puppies, I wasn't there when he ultimately threw up all over the bed.

Yeah. The bed.

Then it became like that scene from Alien where they're trying to neutralize some acid before it penetrates the lining of the space ship and they run from deck to deck trying to get ahead of the damage. I'm pulling off layer after layer of bedding, hoping I reach a layer that hasn't yet been befouled by the more liquid contents of 'Pode's stomach. I guess I'm lucky that the worst of it didn't reach the mattress, but still...And I'd just changed the bed the day before.

So I come up to my office and I have to come up with something bright and funny and clever and I'm tellin' ya -- it ain't there.

And I'll tell you what else ain't there.

Gnorm. I can feel it in my bones that Gnorm has gone where no Gnorm has gone before.

So here I sit, with no sense of humor and Gnorm-less. And no clue what to make for dinner.