23 Breaths

  The very first thing in the morning (which we define as 4am) The cat decides that his prison/palace stuffed to the rafters with food, water and a clean litter box is a too little prison and so he must be allowed to visit the front garden to drink mass quantities of the same filtered water available from several fine China cups located in the house filtered tap water is apparently the water of the Gods when consumed before daylight on the front porch as for me I have fallen off the decaf wagon and burnt the wheels, the wagon bed and all other combustible wagon bits in a campfire by the side of this seemingly unending road so that I can make espresso The cat assumes his position grooms twice and assumes his role as Master of the Universe I finish my coffee make feeble attempts to coax my bones into a shape resembling a skeleton and begin my day devoted to earning money to provide an unending supply of Friskies Tender Vittles