Time awf 4 Behavior

Somehow, I ended my day of work earlier than I expected. Because I’m the boss, I got time off…for non-working behavior. It’s not that I didn’t want to work, but I was pooped. Pooped I was, because of an experiment I’m conducting. I want to rediscover my dreams before they drift off to the netherworld.

The experiment: dream catching. My alarm goes off at 4:00 AM.

Yeah.

4:00 AM.

And then I’m supposed to wake up and write down my dreams. At that hour, though, I am oblivious to life. I can’t remember my name, let alone my dreams. What I’d really like to catch is a couple of more zzzzz’s. Or take a zzzzz-iesta.

After two days of this nonsense, I needed a chillaxing afternoon, and though it was an overcast February afternoon, I headed to the beach. Silly me, while I sat in the car, I called a friend first, who kept me on the line for 45 minutes talking about non-chill subjects. Fortunately, a guest arrived at her door, so I silenced the blackberry and tromped across PCH, nearly getting run over by a speeding BMW and stampeded by a herd of chantingly jogging Marines.

Do I know how to chillax or what?

I sat and watched the waves, people clobbering around volleyballs, some guy bashing driftwood into the sand for a solo game of Frisbee golf, and a dog dying to go surfing or play Frisbee golf.

The sound of the pounding surf just crashed the poopedness out of my mind. I was one with the beach-trash peeking out of the sand. Yo Milky Way Wrapper, how’s it goin’? I will pick you up and deposit you in a trash receptacle posthaste. The seagulls squawked, and with them too, I was one. See me in my rat-with-wingedness glory. Don’t throw that Milky Way wrapper away. Eat it! Yeah. Right. That and a sand witch.

And as I absorbed this oneness-with-the-one into my being, all I could think was, “Dog Beach in HB Rules!” Throw me the Frisbee, man! *BONK*!!!!!

Catching ain’t my bag. J

beach · chillax · dream catching · Frisbee golf · rats with wings · sand witch