BLOG: Puppy Soup

Monday. Ugh. Not feeling very chipper today. I blame the combination of lack of sleep and the wine I drank at the Emmy’s last night. I’ve only been awake for two hours, but I’m already sick of dealing with Andrew. He decided to wake me up this morning in the shape of a puppy, which he says is now the official mascot of Betsey Horton.com. Yeah, sure, right, whatever. Apparently this mascot likes to pull the covers off the bed and threaten to pee all over the carpet if I don’t get up to write about him. He says anybody else would like this video on Instagram. Oh, I just love having an obnoxious imaginary friend like this, said no one ever. I continue to curse the day I decided to create him. It’s clear there will never be any true escape.

Just writing that paragraph was exhausting. I have no desire to do anything right now, even though I have a To Do list I actually have to work through. I blame the wine for this. I knew it was a bad idea, but I drank the whole bottle because It WaS tHe EmMy’S. BLAH! Also, RBG died and I was sad, scared, and angry about the future, therefore wine. I can’t even remember the last time I did that. It might have been about a month now. I can’t even remember. Every day of 2020 feels about ten years long. Trump now says if he loses the election, he’ll go away forever and never speak to his supporters again. OMG WE CAN ONLY HOPE SO! I can’t live like this anymore! My perception of reality is fucked. Every time I get it together, something terribly apocalyptic happens and it’s back to the drawing board.

Oh, that bed is looking so good right now. So much better than this second cup of coffee and my notebooks. I just want to open the windows and crawl under my quilt and enjoy the crisp autumn air. Oh, East Coast autumn weather is perfect. Why did I ever leave it? Aside from the fact that I was forced out against my will? I love being home. I love being surrounded by trees. I love being close to civilization.

Best of all, I love the crows! There’s a team of four floating around that visits every day. Three scour the lawn while the fourth watches out from the tree. I want to befriend them by leaving them something shiny. I hope this attempt will go better than the one I made in Paris. I get the impression Parisian crows are much pickier. They will only accept next season’s designer hair pins, not just any regular old drug store hair pin. Sigh. I cannot blame them. They do live in Paris, after all. Why shouldn’t they expect the best?

I’m still tired. The bed calls me back. Some days even coffee doesn’t work. Then again, my sleep schedule has been fucked up. I should totally undo all of the work I did adjusting my sleep schedule the last few days to indulge in a noon hour nap. Totally. That’s a great idea that will totally fix everything.

I don’t really care right now. I’m exhausted. I’m going back to bed. I am defeated, for now. If Andrew tries to wake me up again, I will turn him into Lakota Puppy Soup.

Hashtag, The End.

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