Okay, a fucking personal note

Rico says the ladyfriend is always on him about writing something personal, as opposed to all the political and historical blather he usually posts, so here goes...
(And if you're bored, wait awhile; Rico will undoubtedly come upon something in the news to rant about.)
First off, what the fuck is Rico doing up at this previously ungawdly hour of 4.45?
The ostensible reason was to feed the cats; the big fat-and-yet-hungry female cat has developed the trick of jumping up and down on her sleeping humans until one of them (usually the ladyfriend, because she's a lighter sleeper) gets up and feeds them.
The actual reason is that Rico, like many aging baby boomers, let alone those with brain shunts, has to get up and pee in the wee-wee (that's a urinary joke) hours of the morning. In addition, he recently twisted something in his back (as yet undetermined), and as a result his leg hurts, as if someone were stabbing him in the hip or the calf with a small sharp object.
So why is he still up, blathering on in the blogosphere?
Because the ladyfriend's alarm will go off in an hour or so anyway (she still has to go off and do that work thing), and our friend Greg will arrive a few hours after that, to assist Rico in our self-propelled renovation of the apartment.
Because he might as well spend the time writing Cowboys & Indians as lying there sleepless.
But first there was some cereal to eat, and some solitaire to play on his iPhone, and then the ladyfriend got up and went to work.
Okay, enough about Rico. On to other things...