Is it the middle of the night?

Or just reeeeeally early in the morning?

It's 4:35 a.m., so I'm not sure what to call it.

I'm sure there are those who call this ungodly time of day 'morning'. Speaking as someone who very, very rarely sees the light of day before...oh....10 a.m. or so...it's most definitely the middle of the night.

Yea, I've been to bed. But my biorhythms are all hinky. Ziggy had to work four hours over, not placing him here at home, all safe and sound, until 3 a.m. or so. I hate that. I hate it for him because it screws with his biorhythms, too. I hate it because it makes him spend more time at a place he detests so much.

And I hate it for me because I can't sleep until I know he's here.

Ok, it's not so much that I can't sleep until I know he's here...he's here...and I'm obviously still awake. The truth of the matter is I can't sleep because of that damned coffee I drank in an attempt to stay awake until he got home.

Uh...it worked. Really well.

I suppose it's just as well I can't sleep. At least it gives me something to blog about. The last couple of days, I've suffered from a pretty severe case of

third degree blog block

. Thankfully, Jimbo gives us a few pointers about what to do when you suffer from this terrible malady. For instance:

"1. Update the ol’ Blogroll: I really ought to do that, and I just might. Then again, that means I have to open “Mr. Template”, which is something that always gives me a case of the hot squirts."

I can soooo relate.

I need to update the ol' blogroll, too. I've got a couple of links that didn't transfer right when I 1. developed a major case of the red ass and 2. deleted my whole blog, 3. immediately regretted it and 4. created this new, "improved" (cough) version of Lollygaggin. I've also got a couple of new blogs to add.

But unlike Jim, opening "Mr. Template" doesn't give me a case of the hot squirts. Au contraire, mon ami. Opening "Mr. Template" tends to make my butt clench so tight that hot squirts are simply...well...impossible.

In other news........

I got my hair trimmed the other day. Twice. Three times if ya count me coming home and hackin at it myself. Four times if ya count me enlisting Ziggy's help.
Gnawed on by rats might be a more appropriate description. And that would be before Zig or I had anything to do with it. It looks....less gnawed now.

WTF? It's a disgustingly simple haircut. It's a friggin pageboy fer gawd's sake. All I wanted was an inch and a half or so trimmed and 'stacked' in the back. She didn't even hafta screw with the bangs...I do them myself.

I suppose it's my own fault for not taking a good look when I was there the first time. I was in a hurry and from the front, it looked ok. It was nice out, so I didn't bother having her dry it...I was gonna go right home and take a shower to get all the hair rinsed off, anyway. Besides that, I'm honestly not terribly picky when it comes to my hair. I mean, I'm just not a diva when it comes to that. I figure it'll grow out quick enough, anyway. And like I said...from the front, it was just peachy.

But, after drying it at home, I discovered that I had this big....wad...of hair in the back. It looked like she just whacked it off...straight across. Which, in fact, is exactly what she did. Ya can't just whack off hair as thick as mine and expect it to lay right. It's gotta be 'shaped' a little.

Off I trot, back to the salon, getting a different gal this time.

"Oh, she should have just stacked the back a little."

Uh huh.

Snip...snip...snip.

Again, I didn't actually look at what she did. I just felt. And it felt ok. Plus, it was a freebie. Damn good thing.

Now, ya know it must be bad when Zig says, "Uh...is it supposed to look like that?"

No. No it's not.

Fifteen minutes and another inch or so later, we had it fixed.

Sorta.