Sweet Mercy

Sweeeeet Merrrrrcy!




I CANNOT SLEEP! Two hours last night. Four hours the night before. Consider this a cry for help.

Why?

This is why I have to go to bed right now with the covers over my head and whimper and shiver until it's time to get up in the morning(ish):





Yeah, that motherfucker--and I make no apologies for using the term, because it's an evil, vile thing--just ran the hell across my floor. AND, Louis didn't care. He watched it go, and I can only imagine, thought, "Oh, interesting. That thing doesn't smell like bacon, so I gues I'll just go back to sleep." AND, Eli, who is a CAT, for God's sake, saw it, looked at me, and then JUMPED ON THE BED IN A LAME ATTEMPT TO ESCAPE THE MULTI-LEGGED MENACE.


I'm buying a snake tomorrow.

Stupid

Stupid Celtic Icon ...

I mean, the pattern isn't stupid, it's brilliant, Fiona Ellis! I heart it bad. I mean that it's not a thoughtless knit and so my version of it, where i got distracted, made a casserole, went to walk a dog, did my nails, and then came back to knit... well, that shizznit was stupid. So, with one sleeve to go, Celtic Icon, you're taking a rest.


And, that's okay! Because I have this to work on:




In Cascade 220 NECTARINE HEATHER, of all things...


And, this as my traveling project (and, by traveling, I mean on the bus):




Which is the million dollar afghan -- why is Noro so expensive?--that my parents will get for Chrismas!


I feel less stressed having a bunch of things to knit. Maybe tonight, I'll get some sleep!

This is it

Substitute "chicken & Chi Chi's" or "taste buds" for "you to do what I say"






I'm sure people said other things to me today, but somehow all I heard was "do it". Not their fault. I just need more than a weekend to regroup and get organized. Because I need to do both -- a few days for regrouping and a few days for organizing. No more last minute morning ironing of only the parts you see (you know, collar, shirt front, cuffs)!

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.