It's two am.
I am wide awake.
In my living room. Gone AWOL from the bed because isn't that what you are supposed to do? Only sleep in bedroom, no fidgeting.
Where did I go wrong?
I suppose I slept in too late this weekend. That probably robbed me of a decent night's sleep last night and tonight. When you sleep 24 hours total in a weekend, why would you need weekday sleep? Aren't you supposed to not sleep in?
I suppose I shouldn't have taken ONE Tylenol PM last night in order to start the week off on the right sleeping foot since i slept until noon both days. I was strung out on it well past 4pm and useless at work. I was so exhausted from being drunk on whatever a half dose does to you that I fell asleep for twenty minutes this evening.
I suppose I shouldn't have taken a power nap at 7pm. I was just so tired from being drunk on Tylenol that I needed to give into the exact urge I had been fighting for 12 hours.
I suppose I should have been less combative in a meeting today, but I have no patience for self importance amid your post-it notes.
I suppose I should be more patient, or at least, learn to let my mini-grudges go. I think a large part of my insomnia is residual anger that just snowballs.
I suppose I should be less angry, and might learn from his that going to the gym exhausted is better in the long run for your mental well-being. Working it out at the gym is better than muttering to yourself about everything you are angry about at 2 am on an idle Monday night.
I suppose muttering might be ok, because it drowns out any creaks and groans from my apartment building that are crazed lunatics trying to break in. My windows might be 7 feet off the ground, but lunatics are raised mighty tall these days, and are hankerin' for a break-in.
I suppose whipping through "The Boleyn Inheritance" is not the best way to soothe yourself to sleep. First of all, it's heavy enough to fend off any potential attackers, and secondly, it makes me angrier about girls treating each other horribly throughout history, the lack of feudal feminism, and how I might end up poisoned or beheaded, or both.
At least there's Bourdain on for me at this hour. He's in Brazil, the least I could be in is lala land.