God of the poor man, this is how the day began

Listening to my iPod which still only contains 750 of the 7,000 possible songs is now a lot like owning a radio where every song is one I like, it's just a matter of surfing around to select one that fits my mood. This morning I was especially spastic -- nothing happy and chipper, because I'm neither. No love songs because I'm not feeling particularly loving or in love. No songs about being tired and/or drunk because that's just rubbing in my physical state. No angry songs because I don't need extra fuel for my crankyness. This eliminated a large number of my collection. Though a couple surprising songs made it past these criteria, including Stevie Wonder's I Just Called to Say I Love You, even though I wanted to make no calls of the sort or even receive them.

When I have a bad day, I just look forward to going to sleep and recharging, knowing that everything resets in the morning. But how does one recover when one has a bad night?

Last night I went over late in the evening to dommeyourass's house with Sophie in tow. She's been in a mellow mood all evening which I didn't want to get disrupted by a car ride and a visit to her house, so I fed her a couple herbal tranquilizer tablets for dogs. I gave her the full dose recommended, whereas previously I've only given half, but it didn't seem to have too much effect. They didn't work. Or, conversely, they possibly are what made her hyper.

I got no sleep. Wait, no, we got no sleep. Mostly from Sophie just wandering around the bed and wiggling around, coming in and out of the bed. At 5:30 am, after some loud barking at the window, I threw her in the bathroom and shut the door. She kept scratching at the door. Lynx yelled at me to do something. I pulled on clothes, leashed her, then took her to the car.

I drove straight home, threw her in the crate, turned back around and drove the car back to her bed . I'm sure you're thinking, Raybear, why didn't you just go back to sleep in your own bed? Well, my bed was covered in laundry that needed to dry and had no sheets on it, plus I was so angry at Sophie at that point, I didn't really want to be in the same house as her. I thought maybe there was still a chance of recovering at least part of my morning. I did fall back asleep at 6:30 am but unfortunately the alarm went off at 8 am.

On top of my sleep-deprived state, I'm also having a really hard time putting the lady down. I feel guilty and responsible for ruining Lynx's night as well, even though it's not technically my "fault". I mean, sure, if I had to do it over again, I would have stayed at home last night or just left Sophie at home, but despite me having some psychic abilities, I still can't be held responsible for outside reactions. It's not like I was maliciously feeding my dog speed so I could torture her all night. But it's that same feeling I get which is why I never like to choose what movie or restaurant a group goes to. If the film or the food ends up being bad, I feel ashamed and embarassed because it was my choice. But crappy things happen in life and I can't prevent them all (if any of them) and dwelling too much on feeling bad will just mean I'm taking things personally I shouldn't. We're not shrinking violets who will be torn apart by one bad night.

Maybe the universe intended for me to be sleep-deprived. Maybe I'm supposed to have my senses numbed and reaction time reduced so I'll get hit by that bus today. Or maybe my exhaustion will send me to bed early tonight and keep me out of some troublesome situation. Who knows.

All I really know is that I need coffee.