As I have been talking about incessantly lately to anyone who will stay still for three milliseconds, I’ve been suffering (SUFFERING!) from insomnia. It’s a side effect of my (lovely and amazing) brain pills, and I’ve been soldiering through, since I’d rather be awake and sane than sleepy and bonkers. However, when one hits around 72 hours straight of wakefulness, sanity becomes a distant memory. I offer this entry as a deep and heartfelt apology to all and any of my friends, who really must be deleting my screen name from their IM clients as we speak. As well they should.
Things that seem like a super idea at 4 AM, which are in actuality never a super idea, not even a little:
- Walking into town in overalls, a sports bra, and a studded collar.
- Knitting five bags, three hats, and a set of fingerless gloves
- Which is appropriate, since my hands are falling off from the incessant knitting
- Taking pictures of self looking like Trainspotting 2: Even More Attractive
- Making a pot of coffee, because why the hell not?
- Or two pots.
- Writing what seem to be utterly brilliant blog entries and MamaPop articles, only to realize they are more like “manifestos” and “not spelled correctly, even a little bit”
- Listening to Joy Division
- Hysterically crying
- IMing with unsuspecting friends:
missbanshee: I’m walking into town!
friend of banshee: That is a spectacularly bad idea.
missbanshee: I can’t stay still! I’m out of yarn! Gotta walk!
FOB: No walking. Shut the door and get in the bed.
missbanshee: The bed has shunned me. Like the Amish. I shall never lie in the bed again!
FOB: Well fine. The couch then. Shut the door, LOCK THE DOOR, and sit on the couch.
missbanshee: Is that a direct order?
FOB: YES. Yes, that is a direct order. Uh…obey me!
missbanshee: That is so sexy.
Of course, there are other things that happen to one’s brain on no sleep. Things become very black and white. (And pretty colors, after the 48 hour mark, but that’s neither here nor there.) Situations, people and things are reduced to being paralyzingly funny or horrifically awful. Non-sequitors abound. Y’all? No one is ever going to talk to me ever again.
FOB: I really need to go to sleep, dude. It’s past 1 AM.
missbanshee: WHAT? You’re three hours behind me! Suck it up, California person! Let’s vacuum under my bed.
FOB: What? Let’s NOT. You have neighbors, remember? Neighbors who will kill you if you start running the vacuum at 4 in the damn morning.
missbanshee: *lower lip quivering* My bedroom is so dusty. You know why? Because it’s LONELY. My bed has never had anyone in it but ME. No one loves me! I’m going to die alone and no one will know until the STENCH from my DECOMPOSING CORPSE permeates my WHOLE BUILDING. *sobs*
FOB: Oh jeez. Um…uh…Hey, would vacuuming make you feel better? Why don’t you vacuum. That’s a great idea.
missbanshee: No, that’s stupid. It’s 4 AM! I’m going to scrub the kitchen floor.
So yeah. I’ve been a delight to be around. Now that I’m on the equivalent of a horse tranquilizer (thanks, doc!) and getting some sleep, I see what I’ve been doing, and, to everyone I have tormented within an inch of their unsuspecting lives as of late? I’m really, really sorry. Please forgive me. I’ve knitted you a pantsuit in gratitude!
Now if you’ll excuse me, the contents of my freezer aren’t going to alphabetize themselves, you know.