It’s 8:11 am. I wish I could say I was in Oviedo, Spain, but alas, Vickie is driving me to work in Winter Park.
I’m already hungry for lunch. Vickie had asked me this morning, when I was still blinding making my coffee, “Want anything special for dinner tonight?” “Yeah, lobster.” Fat chance.
I slept like crap again. I kept waking up. Whenever that happened I felt as if I’d just dozed.
I seriously need to procure a car. At this point, I’d take a golf cart, or a riding lawn mower. A couple months back I thought about driving a riding lawn mower to work, and got the cartoon of that going in my head. So, I googled how fast those suckers can go. Top speed was 7-9 mph. Whoohoo. I’d still take it. It be hilarious to be pulled over in Casselberry while driving one to work. “Well, officer, my car got creamed at Howell Branch and Semoran and I’m kinda desperate.”
Oh, here I am.