6am and I'm sitting in an easy chair in the living room of my daughter's house watching a little Yorkie circle the island in her kitchen.
Around and around she goes, for no apparent reason, and just as she did yesterday. 8, 10, 12 circuits. One of the most curious things I've seen; if not in my lifetime, at least in the first few months of the new year. And now, she's standing by the closed door of Kimberly's bedroom and barking her "little head off." She wants in. Suddenly, the door opens and the little tyke casually strolls in, only to appear again a few moments later; having found her way out of the bedroom through another portal. The circuitous movements around the kitchen island resume.
My son, Steve and I are on the downward slope of our quest to visit two of my daughters who happen to live in the only southern states above the Mason-Dixon line. At least, if you ask the average man on the street, (and I have) West Virginians and Kentuckians will immediately claim allegiance to the Confederate cause. I mean, you can see the Stars and Bars of the old battle flag fluttering in the wind in front of mobile homes, and pasted on the back bumpers of twenty year old pickup trucks here.
I have previously written about my sleep schedule, (or the lack thereof) since my tendency to slumber more than 4-5 hours a day, and divided into multiple segments, at that, can hardly be classified as a schedule. I've been up for a couple of hours having first resorted to my car to listen to the Elvis channel prior to stepping back into the house to watch a confused pooch wander in circles around a kitchen island.
(to be continued)
By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 53. Copyright Pending, 2017.
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