K, I just went and warmed up a left over cup of coffee in sympathy for you. Ugh. Hate those days where you can't quite wake up.
The sub-conscious theatrics that our brains put on for us are really something. The SSRIs that I take make me dream super vividly. I want to think that our dreams help us work out some of the psychological crap we carry . . . I have no idea if this is true but I like to believe it. Dreams do often flavor my mood for the day.
This morning Dad and I drove out to a trail head to wave off my 17 year old nephew on a ~20 day backpacking trip. Nephew has wanted to do this for years and as his school is planing a delayed start, he and a buddy headed out today. Weirdly it is 60 years to the day when my Dad left to go backpacking on his honeymoon. My Mom was a bit of a nut and wouldn't marry him unless he would do this on their honeymoon . . . .the rest of their marriage pretty much followed suit; they just dragging along more and more children.
I've been reading a an English novel by Margaret Oliphant. English humor has been a boon to my life. The protagonist says repeatedly, "The great aim of my life is to be a comfort to dear Papa." I've been saying this to my Dad and with as much sachrine piety as possible . . . .it gives us both a chuckle.
Well off for 5 min of yoga, look at something I need to redo on the Elsa dress, and water the seeds I planted.