Monday night

Tired. Had trouble falling asleep last night (as much natural stuff as I take) and then Bootsy roused me out of my sleep this morning, scratching himself and jiggling the bed (even with the plush, motion-absorbing Eurotop, it was enough to wake me up). In my drowsy state, I yelled at him and he jumped down. When really I woke up, I felt bad about yelling at him. He's been through so much (losing B. and all) and he's a good cat. But waking me up on a work day is serious. I need every minute of sleep I can get.

Lucky now attacks Bootsy, in play. Bootsy seems put off by it, however, and hangs near me when I'm sitting here, or goes off to bed. I brush him every night now, and he looks forward to it. Lucky is still too young to like getting brushed--it annoys him and he fights with the brush. He's still an adolescent.

Saw more photos of the destruction in Galveston today. I think it's time they built their houses out of concrete instead of wood. That's what they've done in the Keys. (There are still a lot of beautiful old wooden houses in Key West, which is the largest island and perhaps not so susceptible to damage.)

Yesterday I was feeling a little wistful and took a walk up past B's restaurant. I saw him, but he didn't see me. He looked OK. The BF's black Hummer was sitting in the parking lot (B. drives it to work sometimes). So they're still together. Today, while I was on the bus home, I saw the Hummer parked at Flanigan's (it must have been B's day off).. The thing was parked in the handicapped parking space, as usual (the BF isn't handicapped, nor is B.).

I also noticed some guys in black shirts with "POLICE" lettering across the back, hovering in the vicinity of the Hummer. My imagination went wild. I thought for sure they were there to arrest the BF for illegally using a handicapped placard and selling drugs on the premises, but when I walked down there after dropping my bag off at home, everything seemed normal. Damn!

Drove down to Walgreen's tonight to get a few things, and half of what I needed (eye drops and Prilosec) was under lock and key (due to inventory shrink from shoplifting). At this rate, they're going to need to hire more people on the floor who carry keys.

Later, after listening to a message from the lady at Home Depot who is handling my case (she apologized for everything taking so long and will call me tomorrow when she hears back from the manager), I had a chamomile tea at Starbucks and ate half a chicken salad sandwich while reading my magazine about a first responder at Ground Zero who died from lung problems that were probably attributable to injecting crushed-up prescription pills rather than from inhaling toxic dust. Moral: Don't do that if you want to be a true hero. (I think he's still a hero--the experience crushed him.)