It's too early for me to make sense.

Dadgummit, it's 4:30 in the a.m.

And here's why.

I am woken up from a sort-of-nice but way too hard to explain dream, by a whining dog. Thinking that said dog needs to go outside to potty, I tell him, "Good boy, Bear!" and let him out. Noticing that he stops right outside the back door to drink from the outside water bowl, I wonder if there's water inside.

Why no, there's not. Thanks for checking.

I contemplate waking Daughter Number One, as watering the dogs is her job, and if I'm up at 4 in the a.m., shouldn't she be too?

Please note that I did not wake Daughter Number One, mostly because I didn't feel like dealing with Zombie Princess from Sleepy Town.

While checking the dogs' water, I see dog poopy in the living room. Thank goodness I didn't step in it.

Can't pick up the poopy yet cause I'm about to tinkle in my very own drawers, so I high-tail it back to my bathroom.

Ahhhhhhh.

NOW I go back to pick up the dog poopy, which I somehow feel is Daughter Number One's fault, since she's the reason I had to get up at 4-something because My Darling Bear was thirsty.

OH! I almost forgot because I'm half asleep. I'm dying of thirst so I open the refrigerator to get a swig of Diet DP, and guess what! Fridge is not running.

Lovely.

Fortunately, I know the trick - the GFCI (or GCFI or GIFC or whatever) switch in the kitchen has kicked off AGAIN, and all I have to do is reset it. At 4 in the a.m.

So I take a moment to wonder if God had Wonder Dog wake me up at just so I could turn the fridge back on. But that thought-process becomes way too philosophical way too quickly, so I just get out the laptop to write about it instead.

While Bear sleeps on my pillow.

Where I should be.

I'm gonna go kick him off now.