To have sleep issues at home is one set of struggles, to have them elsewhere is just the same. Why does it somehow feel so much worse. I am sitting up, wide awake at my friend's house, reading articles about seaweed that has been found that tastes like fried bacon, or so goes the claim. I will go into the city today and make a waking adventure of it. Having only slept a couple of hours I have no idea what sort it will be. We shall see, I suppose. I am meeting a woman for lunch. I have been practicing conversations in my mind. Normally, that puts me right to sleep... I don't understand it.
I have dinner plans later on, and then will pray to the wooden idols and river icons for solid sleep sometime tomorrow night. Thursday is an all-day work day, then the long flight home, then work again, then the Halloween weekend with the boy. What a mess. I am tempted to call everything off and find a welcome couch somewhere and a dark shirt to cover my eyes. Domestic cats really do have it made.
Well, there is still an hour before my alarm will go off to alert me to the remainder of the day.
I should toss around a bit in semi-lucid anticipation of its arrival.
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