Slap My Ass and Call Me Sally

To say that I am not a morning person grossly underestimates how challenging the first light of day is for me. I am a good sleeper. Once I lay my wary head to rest, I slip into a deep and far away slumber that is rarely disturbed by little things like alarms, loud noises, shaking . . . you get the point. A well placed appendage will usually rouse me, but if you do manage to wake me, and don't have the appendage at the ready, my condolences to you, as I can be downright unpleasant.

I had the crazy early flight this morning. More than one person had doubts that I would be able to haul my arse out of bed to make it in time. I worked very late last night and had to clean up the digs (because I hate coming home from a trip to Casa de Chaos), do laundry and pack. Knowing that if I went to sleep, there would be no waking me, I took the trusty approach of staying up all night. My apartment hasn't been so clean in a very long time.

I am fortunate that I am one of those folks who can sleep on planes. Yet still, I'm about four hours short of rested.

After arriving and collecting my bag, I went to the auto rental desk to pick up my "mid size Taurus or similar" vehicle. The lovely Henrietta, who was helping me said, "Would a Mustang be OK?"

As I came to realize that I was being upgraded to a "sporty" car, I said, "Somehow, I'll muddle through with it."

Off I skipped to claim my shiny blue pony.

Generally speaking, Ford vehicles and I are in a fight. Dear Esmeralda has been an expensive lady to keep happy. Though when she's happy, she's swell enough. But as mentioned before, I will not be purchasing another Ford for myself.

The Mustang has a nice rumble under the hood. And it takes a mere tickling from the toe to her long skinny pedal on the right for her rumble to jump to a roar. Probably not the best thing for me to have in my sleep deficit state. Fun though.