Intruder

You know how it is. You're peacefully asleep early morning (6-ish), having dreams about whatnot, probably Jack Sparrow (wait...remembered the status of his dental hygeine...going to reconsider that one) or the library or math or whatever tickles your fancy, and a loud ruckus wakes you up. You bolt upright in your bed, trying to discern figures in the early morning light. You hear footsteps, rustling papers and strange breathing. My goodness, you say, it's an intruder. Being excessively protective of your body, you search in the darkness for a projectile or anything pointy. Your alarm clock will have to do. At least it has the element of surprise.

The rustling continues...

And then you hear your ten-inch-high chihuahua gently whimper at the door for you to let her in, because she's ashamed of herself for messing up papers in the hall and tripping down the stairs in the dark. And breathing funny like a little pig.

I almost bought a fish the other night. My friend thought it was funny that I wanted to go to Petsmart before seeing Pirates of the Caribbean. I figured why not... we have an hour to wait. Of course plan A then kicked in as Ali and her husband showed up and ushered us into the queue for long-awaited summer flick. Playing cards and all that was fun, but I still wanted my fish. Maybe I should have snagged one from Bells Canyon Reservoir.