Sleepless
You must excuse my spelling errors at 4:20 am. Insomnia, like bad religion, had a known debilitating effect upon one's grammar.

So here I am, sleepless once more. Cat had a nice wind round and it now napping it off with Husband. I, however, am watching old movies until the sun rises and wondering if this how people took up drinking brandy.

It's also the time of night when the impossible miseries creep in:

Because I'm not working and we're living just on Husband's salary we'll end up broke, living in a fallen-down Airstream trailer at the edge of the Mojoave Desert when we're older because we have no place else to go; We'll be that old couple pulling soda cans out of dumpsters so we can afford ramen at the Qwikk-E-Mart at Twentynine Palms.

Forrest will leave me for a blond for a trust fund and who somehow belongs to the Marsalas family and I shall be alone with a cat and a resume I haven't used in years.

The quality of cat food will gradually die off and Cipher will start cheating on me with a family that can afford tuna every night.

People I used to manage will point me put to their children as an example of never quitting a job unless you've got something else lined up.

I shall start stealing kibble from the shelter cats as my afternoon snack.

Man, I'm a mess at 4:30, aren't I?