I fucking hate this.
I hate. I HATE. When my sleep schedule gets fucked over. And the only person here who seems to get that I can't HELP that I'm up until noon? Is me. Ideally, I'd like to be in bed, soundly sleeping, dreaming of someone hot, preferably sonicvenom or Warhol, by 5 am. And about 75% of the time, this works out. I have nice dreams, I sleep soundly, I wake up refreshed and smiling and generally my bubbly awesome self.
In the past two weeks, the following things have fucked me over in the sleep department: My stomach issues flared. Every hour, on the hour, running to the bathroom to deal with it, from 5 am until 12 pm. A job interview that I had to reschedule twice. And when I got down there, they ran late. Over an hour late. At this point, I'm fucking exhausted and having to drive up the mountain, when it's still very slick in places, hoping to GOD I don't hit one and go soaring off the mountain, and worried that I'm gonna fall asleep and go soaring off the mountain anyway. But I grabbed a cup of strong black coffee from Dunkin' Donuts and headed to my car. I get a call just as I'm starting my car. All I wanted to do was go home and sleep like a vampire baby, goddamn it, is that too much to ask? Did I get to? No. Because my father, bless his heart, needs me to go with him and switch the cell contract over into my name. Do you think he offered to drive? Knowing I'm running on black coffee and fumes? No. No, I got to drive, make three stops I didn't plan on, and spend an hour and a half in the phone office to set up our new phones.
It is to the point that I cannot enjoy a nice hot cup of coffee in the morning before bed like I like to do. Because the caffeine is all it takes to kickstart my poor overworked brain, because my sleep schedule is fucked up. And I get accused of doing it on purpose. I have slept through new comic day two weeks running. Because my sleep schedule is fucked up. I love new comic day, I'm behind on Superior Spidey, I'm behind on looking through the old comics, I'm behind on shooting the breeze with the boys there. I do NOT enjoy missing new comic day. Period. I just don't. It's not fun, and I wouldn't do that on purpose. Normally I'd say sleep is for the weak, but rest for a person with a heart condition is mandatory.
On that note, I'm going to attempt with the aid of a comic book to lull me, for the third time today, to go to dreamland. I am thisclose to making an incoherent rage noise reminiscent of a frustrated Warhol. And I won't look or sound nearly as funny when I do it.
I remain, an exhausted superheroine,
R
In the past two weeks, the following things have fucked me over in the sleep department: My stomach issues flared. Every hour, on the hour, running to the bathroom to deal with it, from 5 am until 12 pm. A job interview that I had to reschedule twice. And when I got down there, they ran late. Over an hour late. At this point, I'm fucking exhausted and having to drive up the mountain, when it's still very slick in places, hoping to GOD I don't hit one and go soaring off the mountain, and worried that I'm gonna fall asleep and go soaring off the mountain anyway. But I grabbed a cup of strong black coffee from Dunkin' Donuts and headed to my car. I get a call just as I'm starting my car. All I wanted to do was go home and sleep like a vampire baby, goddamn it, is that too much to ask? Did I get to? No. Because my father, bless his heart, needs me to go with him and switch the cell contract over into my name. Do you think he offered to drive? Knowing I'm running on black coffee and fumes? No. No, I got to drive, make three stops I didn't plan on, and spend an hour and a half in the phone office to set up our new phones.
It is to the point that I cannot enjoy a nice hot cup of coffee in the morning before bed like I like to do. Because the caffeine is all it takes to kickstart my poor overworked brain, because my sleep schedule is fucked up. And I get accused of doing it on purpose. I have slept through new comic day two weeks running. Because my sleep schedule is fucked up. I love new comic day, I'm behind on Superior Spidey, I'm behind on looking through the old comics, I'm behind on shooting the breeze with the boys there. I do NOT enjoy missing new comic day. Period. I just don't. It's not fun, and I wouldn't do that on purpose. Normally I'd say sleep is for the weak, but rest for a person with a heart condition is mandatory.
On that note, I'm going to attempt with the aid of a comic book to lull me, for the third time today, to go to dreamland. I am thisclose to making an incoherent rage noise reminiscent of a frustrated Warhol. And I won't look or sound nearly as funny when I do it.
I remain, an exhausted superheroine,
R