I'm not a death bed blogger

But boy, am I close.

Here it is, after 1 on Thursday afternoon, I have WAY too much to do in the next few hours, which is when I should quit working and go home to my family, and yet, and yet, and yet....

I blog.

Because I am a consummate time-waster.

I do this wasting of time, apparently, so that on my drive home I can castigate myself for being so freaking lame as to leave the sword of utter failure still swinging by a hair above my head, when I could have taken it down, polished it, killed several threatning ninjas (or pirates) with it, had it re-forged with the blood of my enemies, used a butter knife to inscribe on its tang a terse message of warning to all who dare use it for evil, and hung it back up with some stout cording in the time it took me to waste the time I did.

But work is so, work-y, and blogging is so,,,,, fun! Fun!

Though, thinking about it, perhaps not as much fun as whuppin' ass on a bunch of ninjas.

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Why is it that the kid who woke you up at 3:30 in the morning with first the noises of puke-age and then the actual puke, can bounce out of bed a few hours later as bright and cheery as if nothing at all had ever happened while you clutch a cistern's worth of cuban coffee in your shaking hands, willing the caffeine to wake you up enough to make a cogent thought?

Being a parent is fun! Fun!

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One upside of the whole early morning urping episode is that, once I fell back to sleep (at 4! Fun!) I had dreams so real that I could have sworn to you that I did indeed get into a horrific car accident that threw me through the cracked windshield, at which occurrence my first thought was "good, now the insurance company will pay to have it replaced"?

I mean, wha??? Where'd the dream of Captain Jack Sparrow go, the one in which he discovers I am not a cabin boy after all but a living breating woman with creamy white cleavage and breastal heavitude of astounding proportion? Huh? Where'd THAT one go?

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I'd also trade the windshield dream with the Jean Luc Picard one. You know what I'm talking about, I know darned well you do. No? You mean you don't know the one in which Jean Luc P is near death after a fight with Q, and you, as the wraith of space-time with a capacity to heal the most mortal of wounds, sweep through the airlocks from the gamma-plus quadrant, invisible to everyone, and wrap him in tender plasma tendrils, exchanging your strength for his injury, at which point you become flesh and blood and the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and you smile kindly and place your soft new hand on his bare chest and offer to share some more?

Well, now you do!

(Picard haters out there, feel free to substitue Captain Kirk, or Spock, or Number 1, or Uhura, or Dr. Crusher, or that empath woman with the crazy Mom and the terrific hair...)

And now that I've outed mysef as a geek of reasonably high order, I will also admist a certain facination for Snape. And Lucius Malfoy. Rowr!

And that's enough for today, y'all, eee-nuff.