YEESH!

YEESH, and YEESH again.


Not sleeping is making me lose (and loose) my mind. I feel like my obituary is going to read: She ate a lot of cheese, and she sat around a lot. She spent a lot of time taking care of other folks. She typed really fast. But, if only she'd been able to get more than 3 hours of sleep a night, she'd still be here stuffing her gullet full of brie.

What the heck? There's obviously a lot of stressors -- H is sick, L is old, I live two places (well, three, actually), but one would think that, when given the opportunity to slough off those cares and drift merrily into sleep, my life would warrant that happening. No. Go to sleep at 11, wake up at 3, watch Andy Griffith, for two hours, then PBS (my favorite, but not at 5am) and then get up, and go to work. That don't make no kind of sense.