Happy, Cold New Year 2015

It’s the first of January in all the States.  There were even some fireworks here (likely illegal, these parts of Maine).

Why am I up at this time?  I went to sleep around 4 a.m., woke up about 5 a.m.

It was the bastard mice.  Here, with this run-down house, these fuckers (and I don’t say it lightly) gnaw away at anything and everything.  And one of them was doing precisely that overhead, in the ceiling above where I sleep.

I was woken to its sounds, the cold, the burning dust in the air produced by one of the electric heaters that was left on, and a pulsating notification light on the phone that Amy’s Wattpad story was updated.

No, I didn’t join in on the countdown to midnight, I was reading, writing.  My dreams right before being roused were of, what else but, blogging.  So even if I pledge a “more sleep resolution” for this year, I will still be blogging.

It’s above me again.  I agree with Evie Storm Rose—they should all be killed, no mercy to those invading.

Happy New Year!  And remember to write 2015 on your checks, etc. now.

Now let me sleep!

Half-blind, half-dead, half-homeless
Half-blind, half-dead, half-homeless
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