Midnight musings

Haven't done this in a long time, but I'm up (I'M UP!!) and wide awake and it's not quite midnight.  Tess has been coughing and hacking ceaselessly so it's hard to get back to sleep.  I'm wondering if this behavior has become as much a habit as a symptom, but that's probably not right and a mean thought.

I've been reading The stranger in the forest, about a man who lived hidden in the Maine woods for 27 years with no human contact.  It's supposed to be a true story but man is it suspiciously like a made-up story.  It's interesting but worth a whole book?  I'm not sure.  Anyway the author posits that some people have a predisposition to living a solitary lifestyle.  It makes me wonder about myself--although sometimes I feel I'm swimming in social contacts, I spend a lot of time by myself with just 2 dogs to keep me company.  And they are great company, but they are not human.  I don't mind being alone, fer shure, mostly when I spend a day without human contact it makes me feel as if there's almost something wrong with me.  Not so much that something's missing from my life, but more that there must be something missing from ME.  I don't think I've ever spent more than 2 days without seeing anyone, and I almost always talk to someone on the phone.  I certainly email my friends and sister every day at least once so I guess in modern days I'm never without human contact of some sort.  Does email count?  I think it does.

Anyway I have my daily fix of human contact at the gym most mornings now.  That can do it for the day.  Carol and I talk for the half hour we're treadmilling, rarely do we run out of conversation (though that does happen sometimes).

It was Derby Day and my horse didn't win, or even come close to winning.  I wonder if the winner (whose name escapes me) will end up being a Superhorse this year.  Seems doubtful.  I didn't really enjoy watching the race, I'm always nervous that something bad will happen, especially in mud.  How can they not slip and slide in that stuff?

Sunday looks quiet.  Gym time is 8:00, then I'll come home, read the paper and watch Sunday morning television (thank you, Jane Pauley), visit with the neighbors around 11 or so, be home by 1:30 or 2 and most likely call that a full day.  What I hope I'll do is take my winter clothes, now nicely packed in bins upstairs and out of sight, which means I'll need to do some work in the master bedroom to make room for the bins.  As my grandmother used to say "Horrors!"