Counting Sheep, or Adding to my TO DO List?

Yawn. A little tired here. It’s after 7, and I still have not slept. It’s been quite a night.

I couldn’t fall asleep last night. I hate that. I’m pretty sure it’s because I had a nap yesterday. I rarely nap. I don’t do it, because I KNOW it will lead me to a lack of sleep. But I did it anyways. Against my better judgment I did it. I was just so tired…I couldn’t help myself. And so there I was, in the middle of the night, staring at the ceiling, cursing my lack of judgment and counting how many times I hit the stipple when I painted the walls red. There are many times. I am not a good painter. I need to fix that.

I decided to read. I did that for a while, and thought it was putting me to sleep, but when the light went out I stared at the ceiling thinking about my book, wondering where she was going with the plot, predicting what was going to happen, and envisioning myself as the fair maiden who has caught the eye of the hard hearted warrier.

I got up and decided to watch TV. I don’t think that was such a good idea. There was this true story movie on about the daughter of Mr. Eaton (of Eaton’s shopping centers) who was killed by this long time family friend. He was a really troubled teen, and a complete nut, but no one did anything until it was too late. Now of coarse he is in the looney bin forever…but too little too late. Why did I watch that? I have a love/hate relationship with true to life movies. They are interesting, because they actually happened…but at that same time, they freak me out because they are true, and I hate watching things that could actually happen to me. So I crawled back into bed, turned out the light and stared at the ceiling thinking about all the troubled teens I know, and where I should hide the butcher knife.

After a while I flung an arm over Harv, looking for some company. Giving him my most pathetic “I can’t sleep” whine. I barely got a sigh out of him. No middle of the night talking there. I stared at the ceiling and thought of the things that we could talk about if he was awake to talk about them.

Man, I was getting hot. I opened the window. I threw off the covers. I switched places with Harv so I could be closer to the window. I stared at the ceiling listening to the birds chirp and watching the sky lighten thinking about how much I didn’t like this side of the bed, and no wonder we sleep on the sides we sleep on.

I got up. It was 5:30. I have been working in my office ever since. I have this bizarre energy. I am getting all sorts of things done. I am typing faster than ever. My brain is spinning. I have this feeling that if someone were actually up to talk to me, I would be talking really fast, with this sort of psycho, glazed over, crazy expression. Like someone who has had way too much coffee and is about to crash. Or maybe just someone who has been up all night and is about to crash.

I can’t even think of a clever way to end this. Maybe something will come to me if I go back and continue to stare at my ceiling. Yes. That is what I will do. But first I need to get some white paint, touch up the ceiling messes, finish my book, say a prayer for all the messed up teens I know, apologize to Harv for keeping him up all night, reclaim my rightful side of the bed and talk to him about all the things that I thought of that we should be talking about. It is amazing how a little ceiling staring can add to your list of things to do. Boy, I’m tired just thinking about it.