Does anyone else arrive at their blog page with either:
Nothing to say?
Something to say, but too tired to say it?
Too much to say so brain explodes?
Okay, well next question: how many arrive at your blog page either having a brain-melt from the Stilnox you took 3 hours ago, or a small stroke?
Kinda hard to tell with drugs. I love it when doctors, chemists or Dr. Google tell me to watch for adverse reactions.
ALL drugs have adverse reactions, and SO DO OUR CONDITIONS THEMSELVES! I gave up long ago stressing about the strange effects my body was constantly going through. Otherwise, Nurse Ratchet was gonna show up and haul me off to her own private clinic. (ref. “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”)
Last night I got hired as the town crier, which involved getting up to pee every 60 minutes, have a quick look around through my half closed eyes, and mutter “No Bad Guys Here.”
The sleepiness I was feeling early on did not live up to its promise, so at 1am I took the second half and waited for oblivion. Nope, back to my Town Crier duties. Do you have ANY idea what it’s like to HAVE to get up like this? Exhaustion doesn’t cover it.
I’m ready to scoop my bladder out with a spoon, and drill holes in my brain with an ice pick intill I find the “off switch”. It HAS to be there, doesn’t it?! Please lie to me.
I finally fell asleep. At 1pm. I slept deeply until 5pm. UNBELIEVABLE!
But this schedule is not exactly conducive to a productive life.
So tonite I started big, with the whole 10mg all at once. I’m feeling both tired and sleepy, but I’ve let those 2 little scallywags fool me before.
I don’t want to be the Town Crier tonight. I WANT TO SLEEP – PERCHANCE TO DREAM! I don’t CARE about the bad guys. Let them take it all. (Just please leave the Stilnox.)
Before I go, I’d just like to say thank you to those who have posted comments or Likes or are following me. If I didn’t answer back yet, please forgive me. I’m doing it all on my phone cuz sitting up at computer is painful, and sometimes I’m not sure what to do. I’m not an intuitive geek, unlike my son, the uber Geek.
I say, “What in hell is WRONG with this?!” and he patiently replies, “PICNIC, Mother, PICNIC.”
Which means, “Problem in chair, not in computer.”
And he’s usually right.
Okay, I’m kind of turning into a ramblin’ rose.
Please ask anyone you believe in to let me sleep. If you don’t believe in anyone, could you kind of fake it and ask the leprauchans or something? Thanks.
Diving now under the comfy covers and hoping for the best.
I’m addicted to sleep, which means …
I’m just hurtin’ here …
the MIRREN LEE 