There’s a little kid singing Christmas carols outside my window. Not much I can do about it. Such are the cons of owning a huge shared lawn.
So anyways, last night’s sleep was messed up. I was night oncall, so I couldn’t take the medication I needed to actually sleep. Or the medication that calms me down when the anxiety gets all whoa. This resulted in having a quite hard time going to sleep, and then to be woken up at 3am by the pager. Nothing awful, just misunderstandings and suchlike.
And so I couldn’t get back to sleep for another four? five? hours. I hugged the Overcow and read TVTropes to try to take my mind off things, and sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t. I fell asleep, as far as I can tell, in the middle of browsing Shaggy Dog Story.
(This is after finishing Shoot the Shaggy Dog, which is much more depressing, and is sometimes what I’m afraid will happen to my life. Ah, I said this in an earlier post: “Life is too short, for tomorrow we could die, hit by buses or shot by psychos on the front porch.” E.g., my parents, or someone who was particularly fond of them, or someone they eventually hire, may show up on my doorstep one day when I’m not ready. It’s a pretty real fear, unfortunately, since my parents are kind of obsessive. /understatement
I live with that fear every day. This is, of course, nothing compared to what I was feeling and dealing with during the Years of Zorn and Tharn. And thanks to how much space I’ve put between here and there, I may never know if my parents die early.)
Anyways, the Overherd is very comforting. They’re very anchoring, is what they are, and when I wake up with the Overcow in my arms I feel so much better than on similar mornings. I snuggled her through a morning conference call.
The rest of the day has to start now. Ugh. I get hangovers when I don’t take my Ambien, these days.