The universe is conspiring to give me chronic insomnia. Sleep is toxic; it wastes precious, productive hours that people can spend engaged otherwise. For much of this year, my baby boy decided it would be fun to party at 3 a.m. Now, after he has moved his partying to more respectable hours, someone else decided it would be incredibly fun to keep me up. The hyperactive stray dogs in my locality.
Now, before doggie lovers pounce at me in protest, let me make this clear: I love dogs. I have always wanted to keep one at home but have been obstructed by various reasons. When I meet a happy, eager-to-please stray, I offer biscuits and pats, sometimes to R’s disapproval. Never have I been cruel to one of these canines.
Why then are they so cruel to me?
Every night at 3 a.m., Continue reading