Pleasant Valley Sunday

I woke up this morning to the monkeys. Excuse me--the Monkees.

I've had them as my alarm ring tone on my cell phone for a week.

That's funny, I thought, I turned my cell phone off.

The battery was low and I was too tired to find the charger I'd packed and taken to Provo with me the night before.

An hour later I woke up again--this time to sunshine.

I flipped out of bed to fix my eyes (It was the second morning in a row that I had opened my eyes in the morning and could not see. I know. I know. I'm blind already. But, this! This was horrifying--for a brief moment. I opened my eyes and assumed I had fallen asleep with my glasses on, and they had fogged from the cold, when I felt for my glasses and...) and then, I searched for my phone.

Found it! I thought, and I slid it open. Still off...?

The extraterrestrials that traveled to earth in a flaming, exploding comet, found their way into my bedroom before sunrise and proceeded to transfer the song by which they modeled and govern their entire planet, to their own cellular devices, to save their entire civilization from absolute destruction; sprinkled anti fog retardant powder in my eyes; and proceeded to make a hasty exit, while turning off my cell phone and restoring it to its proper position, as I unsuspectingly struggled to regain sight.

Soon, all will be verified.

(I've got a conference call with Tim Allen in an hour).

Griznack! Griznack! Griznack!