I think I have used that title before, but it really is appropriate. Its damn near dead of winter still here in the Emerald Isle and I for one am sick to death of it. For no other reason than I cannot sleep. I'm back in my normal (dear god, what a thing to say) sleeping pattern of not being able to fall asleep followed by tossing and turning and frequent waking, accompanied by, as an added benefit of insomnia, seriously messed up dreams. This morning was a lovely episode of me camping, being robbed blind by a guy I was dating and then watching a man throw himself off a tower in front of me. I think he was wearing an orange jumper, but that's really more of an aside than anything. Delightful way to wake up from fitful sleep, no?
I came out for coffee and toast with Flatmate Suzie, who wisely surmised I was in no mood to be toyed with, and laid out the nights 'rest' for her; she declared it no fair way to start the day. She, too, does not sleep well, so when she says it's bad... It wasn't looking like a good start to the day. And yet, as we had dinner tonight, she remarked that I was in a great mood. And it's true. I'm bubbly and energetic and happy and just short of screaming my way around the block. I think it's mostly because of last night. Jenn called and while we chatted, I unpacked my suitcase from Rome. Yes, I know that was 3 weeks ago and it's been lying in a heap ever since. It wouldn't be a big deal if not for the fact that I had to salvage items out of it and that my room needs to be much larger than it is given my proclivity towards untidiness. As it stands, a weekday newspaper is capable of trashing my room, so the suitcase and the explosion of items within proved to be too much. I've been tripping over clothes for 3 weeks and last night, I had the energy to take care of it. I cannot sleep in a messy room. The house can be an utter wreck, but the bedroom is somehow crucial. And potentially, the kitchen. I cannot explain it.
So when I crawled in bed last night, I felt sure I'd have a nice restful night's sleep, especially since I was falling asleep on my Doonesbury book at 10:30, an hour earlier than I normally go to bed. Ah, you can hear God laugh, can't you? As soon as the light went out, the eyes popped open and stayed that way for hours; mind racing at speeds that would amaze Andretti. When I did manage to fall asleep, it was only for a few hours. I woke and it was dark. It's light until 11pm these days, so dark is a good indicator. I saw 4am and the sun starting to dawn. I saw 6am and it was light. I gave up altogether at 745, which is when I fell into the lovely dream described above. But I did wake singing the new Fratellis tune, Flathead, which is really quite happy if you don't listen to the words, so they may have inadvertently been my salvation. At the office, I loaded up my favorite radio station and it was only about 15 minutes before they played the song, so I've been dancing around all day with it in my head. (I think the sleep deprivation is starting to get to me. It's my fourth night out of six that I've not slept well.)
I left work and went grocery shopping. I came home and cleaned the kitchen. I made dinner. I cleaned the kitchen again and then called my mother. It's been an eventful evening for me considering. It's now just shy of 11pm and I'm yawning as I type this, 10% of my Rome photos uploaded, and I want very much to go to bed. I'm just afraid I'll be in here at 2am, unable to sleep, labeling my Rome photos for your amusement.
I need to invest in some Valium.