When you get divorced, you have a tendency to wake up really early, staring at the ceiling, thinking that the light will come in and the day will start at any time. Not so. So if your laptop is right by the bed (not a good idea according to my psychic-don't sleep with electronics), you can start writing emails and poems until the cats come in and slide around on the floor while fighting.
At least they have not had a repeat of the poop/pee fest of the weekend. Such delicate creatures, so sensitive. They are asleep on my bed right now, looking all innocent.
I think I should wear my red shoes today. I have a collection of shoes. My daughter is my pusher. She brings suitcases full of shoes and I can pick. I have green, red, black, purple and teal. I have ones with swirls on them. I have strappy one and plain ones. I only have one pair of high heels which I haven't worn for a long time, no opportunity. I also have a slinky black dress which I might still be able to wear, with the proper accessories, of course. I might actually have an occasion to wear it and someone to wear it for. When I wear my slinky dress and high heels, I feel fabulous. I think a limo should drive me around and I will drink champaigne from my high heel shoe and I can toss my head back and laugh, a sound like bells.
Then divorce is a distant memory.
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