rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,

Reset Sixteen, Day Sixty

It's eight o'clock in the morning and my brain won't shut up. Although I didn't getup until almost two o'clock Friday afternoon, around ten o'clock at night I had a wall-hitting episode (metaphorical, not literal) and had to take a nap. I expected it to last three or four hours at most, but it lasted until almost four o'clock. I've been awake ever since, and have gotten into the tired-but-not-sleepy mode. I hate that mode. I really need to get to the stores Monday, but with my sleep schedule in such utter disarray I don't know what condition I'll be in. It probably won't be good.

Today is supposed to be warmish, but not the 70 degrees that the forecast was predicting a few days ago. Today and tomorrow are both expected to be 66 degrees. That's pretty warm for February, but not outlandish. The next possibility of rain isn't until next Thursday, and it's only 54%. The chances could improve, but they could also diminish. More winter remains possible, but not certain.

Damn, I wish my brain wasn't so muddled. I have no idea what to do next. I should probably work on a shopping list, which I ought to have done a few days ago. Or I could just wash last night's dishes. Or fix some grits, though I have no milk to make a chocolate drink with. I expect to hit that metaphorical wall again at some point today, and I hope it isn't at a very inconvenient time that will end up making things worse. Muddle.

  • Reset Seventeen, Day Eighteen

    Friday would be just a memory, if I remembered it. As I don't, I guess it's more like a myth. Maybe it happened, maybe it didn't, but whatever you…

  • Reset Seventeen, Day Seventeen

    Thursday turned out to not amount to much. I got a notice from the IRS that they had deposited my $600 stimulus check in my account, which actually…

  • Reset Seventeen, Day Sixteen

    No nap Wednesday evening, because I slept the middle of the day away and got up at half past two. I might actually get to sleep before five o'clock…

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.