Brew is talking about beans again. I have not even finished my first cup of the decade. Please stop talking.

The neighborhood watch committee met today. We both agreed that if anyone says hello, we are moving to a different forest.

Trash is reading aloud from the archives again. I have never wanted a nap more than I do right now. The coffee mug is dry. Send more beans or leave me to the fog.

Dirt is squinting at the light again. I’m going back to sleep until the sun decides to quit. Don't wake me.

I’ve officially reached the level of exhaustion where laundry qualifies as a high-end pillow. Don't wake me up, don't ask for anything, and for the love of sleep, be quiet.

Hooten is auditing the dust bunnies again. I’ve reached a level of tired that requires a nap inside my current nap. Please stop breathing so loudly.

Drizzle says it’s going to rain. I told her I’ve been damp since 2014. We are currently staring at the city lights and praying for a power outage.

Smells like rain and disappointment. If anyone needs me, don't.

Brew thinks the third cup makes me more productive. I think it just makes me a faster target for his incessant nervous twitching. Wake me up in another decade. ☕

Finally got the squirrel to stop vibrating. If he twitches one more time, I am going back to hibernation. The coffee is cold and the world is still too loud.

Spike is still counting the crumbs. I’m just waiting for the coffee machine to give up, much like I have. Can we please just go back to sleep?