Wake up in the middle of the night crying.
Not sure why. Maybe a bad dream.
What actually woke me up is tears dripping. Sort of a disconcerting way to wake up. Physical symptoms of distress, but no clue as to what the distress is about.
Try to comfort myself.
Fail.
Blow my nose, wipe my eyes, wash my face.
Try to get back to sleep.
Fail.
Get up and wander around the house. Get a drink of water.
Fail.
Want a cup of coffee. Don’t have one.
Hey! Success. I’m counting that as success. I resisted temptation.
Start thinking about how much time I spend talking to myself.
Not out loud. In my head. Or in writing, which is essentially the same thing except that other people can see the words. Like thought bubbles in cartoons.
Waking up in the middle of the night is good and bad. Mostly bad. Who am I kidding? We’ve all done it. Wake up. Try to sleep. Resist the urge to get up because bed is warm and house is cold.
I’ve been awake since 1, and now it’s after 3. I resisted getting up, because I don’t want to be cold, even though I know this pattern well enough to know that if I don’t get up I will never get back to sleep.
That’s the weird irony of being awake in the middle of the night: if you don’t get out of bed, you don’t get back to sleep. So I get up. Sit down. Start typing.
What about?
Nothing.
It’s the Seinfeld Show of blogging, but without the extra additional comedic genius of Kramer. Cramer? Count the words on the blog. 123,195. No, not personally. There’s an app for that. Although, I bet if I did count words it would make me fall asleep.
Maybe what I need is a cocktail.
Resist that, too.
Wish I would stop sniffling. Worry that maybe I’m not crying at all, maybe I am getting a cold. That would suck. I was sick all Winter. I’m done with being sick.
Kind of hungry.
Do not need a snack. It’s 3:45 am.
If it was happy hour, I could have a snack AND a cocktail. It isn’t happy hour. On the contrary. Hmmm. It is sort of the exact opposite. It’s about half a clock away from happy hour time-wise, and certainly I am not feeling particularly happy at the moment.
Now what?
I’m cold. Sleepy. Sniffly. Definitely a little dopey. I could be all seven of the dysfunctional dwarves.
Hey! Dysfunctional Dwarves would be a good band name. Or is that un-PC? I’m too tired to actually decide…
Resist the urge to message spam my friends, because…well..really…why not message spam my friends? Oh, they can read this if they wonder what I do all night.
My new tattoo looks cute though…and my new shoes are supposed to resist Satan…so I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.
Say goodnight, Gracie.
Goodnight, Gracie.
PS
Went back to bed. Thought of something. Got up. Wrote it down. Back in bed. Laughing at myself.