Fried.

I got home from class, sunburned and tired, a little before 9PM. Bobbi was asleep because she was working the 0MG30-Noon shift. I stayed awake 'til her alarm went off, and evidence would dictate that I stayed awake a little past that, but I woke up sprawled atop the covers, fully clothed and in my shoes still, at 3:20AM.

I had intended to walk her out to her car and retrieve my suitcase full of laundry and stuff from my car in the garage at the same time, but that didn't work out as planned.

Half-awake, I shucked out of the grimy range clothes and into PJs, flopped back down atop the comforter, and didn't move again 'til the TV in Bobbi's bedroom turned on of its own accord at 6AM, which is coincidentally the same time that Huck was frantically mewing in my ear to let me know he was likely to starve to death in the next 37 seconds if I didn't do something about it.

I dozed fitfully for another hour or so before getting up and heading to the range to pop some caps, mostly so I could sort out the round count on some gun logbooks:

Count the ammo left in the bag, plus what's left in loaded mags, and...whoops, don't forget there's a round of FMJ in the chamber of the gun on my hip...and subtract that from 500, now add seventeen for the carry ammo that was in the gun at the start of the class, and that will tell me how much ammo I fired in the class. (355 rounds, but I sat out some drills to photograph stuff.)

I'd write more stuff today, but frankly I'm too in need of a good night's sleep to write well.
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