Reading: Two trashy historical romances I stole from Melissa. Very nice sickly unemployment reading. I haven't given up on Crimson Petal though.
Listening: Do you really want to know? Because I will tell you. Just as an experiment, when I sat down to write this, I had my jukebox select an hour's worth of music at random from every song I have on my computer. At the risk of everyone learning a little too much about me, and therefore never reading me again, here's what I got:
"Les Yeux Ouverts" by Beautiful South
"Waltz" by Hem
"Misunderstood" by Pink
"Captain" by Dave Matthews Band
"Ghost Story" by Sting
"Hymn to Her" by the Pretenders
"End Credits" from the Buffy soundtrack
"Kilroy Was Here" by Little Jack Melody
"Perfect" by Eliza Carthy
"83" by John Mayer
"Frozen" by Madonna
"Where Do I Begin" by Jill Sobule
"Mesmer" by Cousteau
"I Never Really Loved You Anyway" by The Corrs
"Hindi Sad Diamonds" from the Moulin Rouge soundtrack
Watching: I want the DVDs of Queer Eye right now. Today. Saints be praised, this show is television at its finest.
Not Watching: The movies I have from Netflix, and I've had them all for at least a month, one of them for three. (Iris, The Ring, and Empire of the Sun, none of which I have seen.) It kind of defeats the purpose when you keep them this long, I think.
I am beginning to wonder if I am ever going to sleep again, ever.
It is right now 11:43 on Friday night. For the entire afternoon at work (yes, I am working again, more on that later), my eyelids were drooping, my brain was fuzzy, and all I could think about was getting home and crawling into bed and closing my eyes and not opening them until perhaps Sunday.
I have not slept more than about two hours at a stretch since last Thursday. That's a week ago yesterday.
Last weekend, I went up to see Melissa, and I couldn't sleep there. That's not so weird, since I do usually have trouble sleeping when I'm anywhere away from home. But I couldn't sleep Sunday night either. Then I got ridiculously sick with some stupid ass cold, and though I laid around feeling miserable, I never actually slept.
So when I went on a cold-medicine-and-Kleenex CVS run on Tuesday, I bought an over-the-counter sleeping pill. I took them Tuesday night. I waited a half an hour for them to kick in. I waited an hour. I waited two hours. Hello? I wasn't wide awake, but I wasn't sleeping either.
On Wednesday, I got a job assignment starting Thursday. I decided that I didn't want to start this job looking like death warmed up, as it was bad enough that I wasn't completely over the cold and would in fact start the job hacking all over everyone, which is just as bad. So I drank a lot of juice and I went to bed early and, silly me, decided to give the pills another shot.
Whatever. Last night, I decided against taking a double dose of the sleeping pills (I'm usually not afraid of abusing OTC medications, but there are some lengths even I am not willing to go to), but I tried everything else, all my old tricks, even my die-hard tried-and-true sleep-mantra technique from college when I had first had serious insomnia. Nothing. I think I looked at the clock at least once an hour, every hour.
When I got home tonight, I made some plans with Michelle for tomorrow, put on my pajamas, wrapped a t-shirt around my eyes (still no blinds in the bedroom, exhibitionist that I am), and slept.
Ha! Just kidding about that last part.
So I laid there and read, and when the spirit moved me I closed my eyes, but no actual sleep.
And anyway, I was hungry. Due to a certain unmentionable medical problem I've been having (yes, am still having), I've been feeling a little anemic, so I decided to splurge and pay an exorbitant amount of money to have ribs delivered to my house. Sometimes a person just needs to rip meat off bone with their teeth, you know what I mean?
Except that the restaurant delivery service's online ordering wasn't working for the rib place, and when I called, they said the restaurant was having computer problems and couldn't accept delivery orders.
Sigh. Defeated, I went back upstairs and turned on the TV in my bedroom, which I hardly ever do because it is a 13-inch television located approximately one hundred yards from my bed, so I can't really see it, but I laid there and listened to the last third of Jerry Maguire (will there ever be another movie that gives us so many catchphrases? Show me the money, help me help you, you had me at hello, I did not shoplift the pooty? Classics, they are) and the first part of Groundhog Day (it's funny, but it was not speaking to me tonight) and so I came downstairs and now here I am.
And if you need evidence that I am a little sleep deprived, then you haven't actually been reading this entry so far. I could ramble a little more, I suppose, if I really put my back into it.
I want to tell you about my new temp assigment, but it's actually very interesting and kind of complicated, and I just don't think I'd be able to present a coherent picture to you at the moment.
So we'll save that rambling for tomorrow.
And we'll dispense with the sad rambling tonight.
My parents flew to Atlanta tonight to spend the weekend with my aunt. No one is kidding themselves about the fact that it is to say goodbye. They did end up discharging her from the hospital, in that "you'll be more comfortable at home" kind of way. My mother's voice breaks every time she talks about her now.
My aunt is 69, five years older than my mother. The idea that I might only have five years left with my mother is like contemplating eternity. It's just not something I can wrap my mind around. And my mother is probably going to lose both her beloved sister-in-law and her beloved father within a very short space of time.
On behalf of my mother, I would like to officially stamp my foot and say that it is not fair. Or am I too old for that? I'd really like to shake my fist at the sky and scream it, too.
Because it just isn't.
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