It’s the middle of the night and I can’t sleep; I should be in bed, dreaming dreams. I’ve been up for hours and a little mind fog is starting to settle. Now the question of the hour is: do I go to bed and try to sleep a little while or stay up all night, and face tomorrow bleary eyed and a little crabby.
It’s strange how pulling an all-nighter used to be fun, a little rebellious and usually involved some sort of adventure (or studying, and that definitely lacks adventure). Now it just brings worry: “If I go to bed will it mess up my internal clock worse than staying up”. The strange thing is I didn’t pump myself full of caffeine; haven’t had any in a couple of days.
I could try to do something productive, but doing it quietly so as to not wake the rest of the family would be hard. So here I sit, writing a blog about not wanting to be up. I could listen to the CD I got from my sweet hunney tonight, and get all nostalgic about junior high roller skating parties and remember the butterflies of holding the hand of the current-crush-of-the-week during Journey’s Open Arms or Faithfully, or the reality that the crush-of-the-week had a crush on someone else and they were skating and I was leaning on the wall watching during couple’s skate, trying to not look lame. I could try to work on the blanket I’ve been crocheting for a while now, but I’m afraid the brain has shut down enough I’d lose count of stitches in the pattern and mess it up. That’s the stinky thing about insomnia– the body’s ready to shut down, but the brain won’t completely.
I off to lay in my cmfy bed, and see (or not see) what happens.
G-night– or G-morning for you early risers, since the sky is starting to lighten up a little already. At least I don’t hear birds yet, but it won’t be long.
