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Clear skies soon, my lawnmower man knows

The pups went ballistic this morning. They raced around barking and wanting to play. My head was pounding. I didn't sleep well last night. The weight of the world? probably not. I fell asleep with the TV on. All night I woke watching bits before dozing off again. I then worried whether Oprah and the Roswell aliens would get little Timmy out of the well ... all my TV glimpses had mixed together.  Such a conundrum. Result being, this morning I was shattered. I had a headache that could floor an elephant. This didn't stop the pups from doing their frantic two legged dances. They wanted me to know the lawn mower guy was here. They didn't have to tell me, I could hear him. He's a happy soul - a morning person. I knew I would have to face him to pay for the mowing - lying on the floor and hoping he could go away, wouldn't work. I don't look the best in the mornings ... or the afternoons. I'm wake up at night. Too late for the lawn mower man - he always meets Ms Messy. I brushed my hair and put on the lippy but this thrown together shambles was nothing he hadn't seen before. We talked about the weather. It's the most important topic in the outback country - for good reason but I ran out of "umms, yesss, and I knnneewwwws.." So, I stood stoically with my mouth curled tight like a cat's bum, trying to look awe struck. Sigh. Best I could do for a Monday morning.

After a headache tablet and a strong cup of black coffee, I'm almost human again. I made a mistake of doing the Oprah real age test on line. Suffice to say, I came in badly. Book me into a retirement village and be done with it. 17 years more than my chronological age!  I don't smoke, seldom drink now and gave up chasing young men a decade ago ( I regret some decisions.. ). I hate to think what the score could have been. Now, I have a clean living life (and, remember, clean country weather!) but I've still got one foot in the grave and the other on a banana skin. Sheesh - I need a few vices back. It might give me a few more years. 

Well, can't gab about nothing all day and better get stuck into my work. I feel I need to get passionate about my work but it's still just work. Now, if I could write, I'd be set. I admire all those people who write. I guess I'm destined to be just a writing groupie... then, I guess, that's not a bad thing either.

Watch the skies, there are cloudless days coming soon ... my lawn mower man swears it's true - and he knows these things.

Cheers
Red