I woke up at five thirty Friday morning, anxious to get on the road. Anxious to spend the day with Art. Anxious to get to my Grandma M&M's house. Anxious to see Diana. None of this anxiety was truly a bad thing. Maybe anxiety is the wrong word. Excited? Stoked? I'm not sure. But regardless of what you want to call it, I wanted to get going.
It's now shortly after four in the morning and I'm sitting in Diana's dark living room blogging after having soaked in a hot bath for about thirty minutes. I cannot sleep. I haven't really slept. A little light dozing here and there, but nothing truly substantial. Honestly, I'm a bit worried about how I'm going to function when daylight hours arrive. And no, I did not take another Bi-Polar in a bottle. I learned my lesson the last time.
It's not my accommodations. I just do not sleep well in new environments. Add stomach issues due to travel, stress, emotional overload, and feminine issues, and I'm a hot mess at four twenty am.
I'm really having a great time. Art & I made a stop at our favorite local coffee shop. We ran to Wally World for supplies. We cranked up the tunes and eased on down the road. There was a brief (but much needed) visit with Grandma & Grandpa M&M at their house and then we got to the land of DuckI (as we called Diana in high school).
Chinese for dinner. Mani-Pedi's for dessert. A quick browse through Barns & Noble, then back here to visit some more and laugh until we nearly peed our pants at odd SNL skits on Hulu. We finally gave up & turned in a little after one thirty.
I'm not sure how long I laid there praying for sleep to come before I gave up & headed to the bath (thank goodness it's at the opposite end of the house from the guest room Art & I are sharing and downstairs from Diana's room). Even a giant book of Dilbert comics couldn't lull me into a state of relaxation.
I just want to sleep. Is that too much to ask?
One night in nine years when I do not have a child to take care of and I can't unwind enough to enjoy the big bed Art and I have to laze about in.
Sleep, you fickle wench. Why have you deserted me? Don't even think about trying to needle your way back into my affections tomorrow. By then my break will be over and I shall have to return to the world of mothering where you are a second class citizen, only allowed to show your face when there is nothing else to occupy my time.
(A brief note on the title: "Damage" was my favorite early 90's slang that never really caught on. I first heard it used in the movie Buffy the Vampire Slayer & have been forever saddened by it's fall to the wayside.)