Fading Fast

I think I’ve done pretty well today on such a small amount of sleep. Considering I’m NOT a morning person to start with, starting my morning so early just causes me to feel I’m now entering the “jammie zone”… the time of evening when all I want to do is put on my jammies and either climb into bed (preferably pre-heated) or lounge on my overstuffed sofa with something yummy to eat and beverage of choice.

Please do NOT call me. I have had waaaay too many phone calls today. You want your order NOW. I do not want to give it to you NOW. This does not put me in a good mood. If you want me in a good mood, tell me there is ‘no rush’. That usually works. It means I will probably get it to you faster than you thought possible, but without the grouchy after-effects.

The telephone used to be my friend. Then I went to work at the institute of higher learning in our town. This is a reasonably large place and I was the first person that people spoke to when dialing the phone number listed in all publications, phone directories, and bathroom stalls. This meant I answered the phone at least 200 times a day. No longer is that true. After working in that position for almost a year, I was very glad to move up the food chain and no longer had to answer the phone. Ever.

Now have a totally different job but I still cringe when the phone rings. I pray that whoever is calling on our home phone will call me on my cell phone – I have caller ID on the cell that allows me to screen my calls and offer me the choice of letting them leave a voicemail or just ignoring them forever. DH doesn’t understand why I want to let the answering machine pick up the phone at home and let me decide if I really want to talk to whoever is calling. He however, has a love/hate relationship with his cell phone. When it rings he invariably yells “fucking phone!” loudly, then proceeds to answer in a normal tone of voice. I ask him if he says that when I call and he says no. He’s lying.

I don’t have the option at work of ignoring the phone or yelling obscene things at it. I am, however, last person to have to answer. When everyone else is out of the office, then I must answer. Or, of course, if the call is for me. Today most calls have been for me. I resigned myself about an hour ago to staying the full day. If I’m going to be tired, by God I’m going to be REALLY tired and if that means staying here until 5 answering the fucking phone, then I’ll do it.

It’s supposed to storm tomorrow. Rain, wind, cold. Maybe I’ll get to sleep in. I’ll put that in my happy thoughts and listen to the forecast later tonight. I just may not be able to stay awake for the big debate tonight… oh, well

Whine Whine Whine

I admit it. I’m a whiner. I never used to be, but in my older age I’m finding whining to be a perfectly acceptable pastime. When you are older everyone expects you to whine. I whine when I’m too cold. I whine when I’m hungry. I whine when I’m tired. I whine when I can’t think of anything to do except whine. Oh. Guess that’s redundant, huh? Right now I’m tired. I have every expectation of being further exhausted before I finally get to put my head on the pillow tonight. Part of it is this time of year (harvest), part of it is the full moon, some of it comes from waking up at 3 a.m. for no reason and being awake like it is the first day of school. Again, no real reason. I have nothing exciting happening in my life right now. I just opened my eyes and was UP. I’m anticipating being hungry in a short time. Then maybe I can find something else to whine about.

Tinfoil

Today we will begin the continuing saga of tinfoil. From time to time (about once a month) we will revisit the ever annoying properties of the full moon on the human body. Specifically mine. This may not be as facinating as it first appears.

I seem to be moon-sensitive. Perhaps this can be attributed to more water on the brain? I know the moon can influence the tides in the ocean, so perhaps it’s a mere physical sloshing in my head that creates strange dreams and odd wakeful periods in the night. Ask any emergency room personnel and they’ll confirm the increase in activity during a full moon. I’m not talking urban legend here, I’m talking to friends and family! It really does happen, right here in mid-America.

For as long as I can remember, it seems the full moon has been a harbinger of strange dreams. I have more remembered dreams than the ‘normal’ person as it is, and yes, I usually do dream in color. It doesn’t seem to be a factor if I can actually see the moon at the time of fullness. I’ve had issues when the weather has been overcast or when I had perfectly good, thick, moon-proof blinds. (Those of you who are faithful readers know that we are now living in a new house without such protection. Okay, yes, I did purchase blinds, but I didn’t say I had gotten them installed yet, right?) My DH likes to add his two-cents-worth in reminding me that ‘the full moon is full all the time – you just can’t see it’. Uh huh. Tell that to the brain.

As it is, I am once more wide-awake at 3 a.m. dreading the 6 a.m. alarm knowing tomorrow is going to be a shitty day because I’m going to be so damn tired. Yes, I hear you whispering “you should have stayed in bed” but I know myself and to be in bed right now would be a toss-fest and I’m just not up to that. Oh. Bad pun.

So I rise up out of my oh-so-comfortable (yes, I think I finally got the ‘number’ right) and warm bed and slink down to the family room so not to wake DH. I bring books and trail cats and find my laptop all plugged in and begging for some attention. I can’t resist a little blogging. Maybe talking to you is just the warm-milk placebo I needed.