Today is Saturday- remorse

I slept from around 8 pm until noon. That is some crazy sleep for me considering I usually run at about 4 - 6 hours, and if I am lucky 8 hours. So, to get in almost 16 hours of sleep is impressive. I am looking forward to getting some more sleep tonight. I actually just want to go back to bed and see if I can wake up tomorrow with that sore, groggy body feeling. I want to go outside tomorrow, maybe go for a bike ride, and see if I can breath clearly and see if the light hurts my head.
I awoke this morning to a sense of dread, or remorse, or regret from my posting of yesterday. I was thinking about it prior to falling asleep and it was the first thing that I thought of this morning. I spent the last hour or so focusing in on the issue and I think that I narrowed it down to one really repugnant, distasteful and puerile (I like the way this word sounds. It sounds so, 'adult' and wise) account. I owe an apology to myself. I should not have been so quick to state that I am a bad, awful person. I did feel a bit awkward when driving by Sophia's house, but in a strange way, I had hoped that I would see her. I wanted to see her walking into her house; walking out of her house; walking with someone; walking alone; driving; parking; pausing to clean her glasses; kneeling to buckle her shoe; stopping to reposition her shopping bags on her hands. I really needed to see her, and I am too proud at this moment to call her up; and, she is clearly too proud to call me; so we are at an impasse. No, I don't think that that is the right word. We are both clearly making a decision which is to not call the other, and I am assuming that she wants to see me, but is too proud to call or come by. What if she does not want to see me and she is not calling me since she has clearly moved on and is finished with me. I am not sure if that is an impasse, rather, it is a fait accompli- keeping it in the French references even though I am not a big fan of the French.
Mi son Venezian'!
On May 16th, Napolean put his mark upon the souls of the Venetians when he said, ".....the Winged Lion of Venice must lick the dust."; and then he kidnapped our Noble Lion and Steads and hoisted the shit rag above our square. When Zizou tried to break the 'Lecce Stone' it was in response to what the French already know- our Lion and Steads are the true father's of the French population, and Paris is a Venetian suburb. Zizou's header was another attack on our great City, but as all things French go, he was not man enough to conquer us. Just like Napolean, he was returned to France a tired, frustrated and helpless man.
If the weather is clear tonight, I will bring out the Dob and look for some dark fuzzies. I had always wanted to star gaze with Sophia, but she never seemed to be interested in it. I wonder if 'yellow panties' would be.
Xioba- Forza Italia!