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This time change shit is killing me in the morning. I usually feel a little run down as it is from not enough sleep and a relatively high stress job, but this is ridiculous. I feel like a puppet whose strings aren't taught. I've been awake long enough to shower, get dressed, gather my office accompaniments, and hit the morning METRO toward downtown and I still feel like I just popped a full zanny-bar. With great irony, I sat down in the same seat on the bus that I was sitting in when I lost my digital camera a week or so ago. The lingering details of that sequence of events still burns like fresh lime juice in a paper cut. Notice how there are very few photos on this site these days... hmm... coincidence? EL made cookies for the office again last night. It just might be the brightest glimmer in temporal sight as we navigate this day. Speaking of navigation... we have had the sometimes occasional, but mostly regular visits from bayou rats at the house for some time now. They scurry across the power lines and onto the roof of the garage or house. Then, after playing around and looking for any sort of access into the attic where they can make mischief, they scurry back across the power lines to Ratville or wherever they live. As nasty as it sounds, they're kinda cute. Anyhoo, we had a pest guy come out last week and spray for bugs and whatnot. He just so happened to also specialize in rodent schtuff. EL asked him if he could get rid of the uninvited attic guests without causing any rodent death within the constrains of our home and ensure there would be no harm to our pets. I was at work at the time, but I envision this was the point where he put on his best Amway plan demonstration and made the sale. Now, let me pause for a moment and clarify that in no way do I think that EL was duped by the pest guy... she is one of the brightest women I've known and can smell bullshit pi miles away... however, I do think the pest guy didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. There is a very distinct smell of rotting flesh coming from the attic. It shifts in locale and intensity depending on atmospheric temperature and whether our central air blower is activated or not. He got a call last night from EL and is coming back today. He'll be leaving with something dead (and the smell) or EL's boot in his ass... maybe both. Through my jarred vision due to the perfectly smooth and polished Houston midtown streets sporting terrain one almost needs a moon rover or monster truck to ensure safe passage, I see the skyline of downtown... the gothic look of the Bank of America building, the twin Pez dispensers in the sky formaerly known as Enron, the indigo q-tip head of Continental Airlines, and more than a dozen more in various stages of recognition... and all I can think about it the spattering of subterranean coffee dispensers waiting to take my money. I love coffee. It might be the only thing that saves me today.