Hyper-vigilant Awakening

The Apex has fallen on the father fucking Breach of Contract pile. If my ifs are in alignment, excitement over that truimph is the cause of my hyper-vigilant awakening this morning. Time's a-wasting. Let's get to it while the street lights are glaring!! That's industrial strength lighting up there! Who needs daylight?

While it is a scientifically verifiable fact that the light is adequate. . . Psycho nag flags are waving. . . It's hard to tell through the pops and sparks of my high intensity nature, I only believe my Quiet Voice is pointing to this as a critical juncture where my most spectacular successes have herstorically morphed into my most spectacular disasters at the speed of a misturned steering wheel during a high speed car race. At the Indy 500, hurrying at 250 MPH equals road kill. The crash and burn happens quicker than a pit bunny's cleavage can pop out of a high dollar under-wire bra.

Plying calming exercises. . .

I sent K's not-a-husband off with a paycheck when they left to pick their son up from school with promises to be back today. When a person is demanding respect, I salute. We all deserve respect. Of course K insisted, "We don't take money from our friends." Nor would I offer you money, cherished K. I wasn't talking to you, my assertively trained friend and your name isnae on the check. As K was heading for the passenger seat of her vehicle, I put my arm around the shoulder of her not-a-husband and slid the check into his shirt pocket whispering, "You deserve proper respect. Thank you for your service." I patted the pocket of his shirt and let him go to finish his trajectory to K's SUV crossover. A side note on that drama is that K has been worried that her not-a-husband is falling into a clinical depression since they left their multi-generational legacy in Chicago. Despite K's intensely social nature, the locals here havenae been any kinder to them than they have been to me. He used to be a professional truck driver and she is happy, happy, happy that he has been compromising his never-drive-another-person's-vehicle ethic to drive Boy Toy for the dump runs. It is very real progress in his strictly personals. So is the fact that he wanted to drive K's macho wagon to pick up their son. Was that a united pride I saw in them as they stood upon the plateau of the fallen apex yesterday? Yes, that triumph was theirs. They couple-sniped their way to the top with admirable efficiency. Yes, I was envious on more levels than I can count. GO TEAM!!!

Tremors set in almost immediately after I started plying calming tools to my eager intensities. The tremors have calmed over the course of typing this entry, but. . . Guit-chi time? Worth a shot. . .