Up here in Georgetown, one hears roosters in the early morn'. This morning, they were joined by none other than Mr. B, who at 5:11 a.m., stared crowing and strutting, and annoying the heck out of me. Gwamma came up to retrieve the early bird at 6:30, but alas, I could not go back to sleep. Yawn.
B-man likes to fly, although he does hide his face in my lap when we take off and land. Now that we are up here in George(town), we are both relaxing and doing a whole lot of nothing. Just what we need.
There is a weird phenomenon that happens each time I visit: I have really vivid, bizarre dreams all night long. Something in the air perhaps.
Bluebelly has nothing to say. It has nothing to do of course, with the fact that I've had laryngitis. It has everything to do with the fact that that there is nothing, i mean nothing to say. Nothing. No bit of anything at all. Life is predictable and boring. La tee dahh.
Mr. B insisted upon visiting Train Town for the second day in a row. His wish was granted, so I took a nap.
