Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Tired as Spit and Working to Keep My Blammed Eyes Open

It's 5:33pm on a Tuesday and I desperately need a nap. The only reason I'm upright is that I think I'll probably sleep better tonight if I don't fall asleep at 5:34pm. Plus, I hate that woozy feeling I get when I fall asleep too long in the evening and wake up wondering if it's Thursday morning and I missed my alarm. You know what I mean? The clock says 6:45 and I can't tell if that's in the morning or at night because it's dark out at either hour. And isn't it Wednesday instead? No. Still Tuesday, but now I'm fracked because I have to get up just to go to bed and when it's actually time to go to bed, I'm going to be one wide-awake confused and cranky glitch.

Can anyone say midnight vacuuming? Nick and Mike won't appreciate if I vacuum at that hour. Blending? No? Simultaneous loads of wash and dishes? Negative? What about scraping the walls with degreaser so I can paint them tomorrow? Even a good on TV show with the speakers set to surround-sound won't work all that well with people sleeping on the other side of a wall that's vibrating. I hate using the puny TV speakers just because people want to sleep on a Tuesday night. In the summer, this would equate to mowing the lawn at 1:00am wearing a headlamp. 

I lived next to a man for three months who did that. Crazy flack. The only problem is that now, after years of fatigue at odd hours and wild-assassin insomnia, I know just why this man was out there. He was so blammed tired he had no clue, no living brain cells to tell him that normal people were actually sleeping at that hour.

Thankfully, it's not summer. 

I do crazy things when I'm sleep-deprived. Yesterday, I put a box of peppermint tea bags into the fridge when I was done making tea. If I lose my keys, I'll look for them there too. I cried at the end of Trainwreck. You know the part when Amy Schumer's character did a faceplant? Yup. Tears. In real life, that might bring tears to my eyes, but only if I hit the bridge of my nose going down. But this was a movie, asp-wipes. I have no idea what the shell was the matter with me. Mike laughed.

"You're tired," he said and he patted my ankle. My trucking ankle. How the smell is that going to help me keep my act together?

Goodnight Blue and thanks for listening, jules

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