Brain in a blender
rendered me
unable to sleep.
In thrall to the mundania inundating my mind,
I tossed, resentfully listening
to sounds of contented breathing
from the west side of the bed.
I had one of those nights. For the life of me, I could not drop off. Why was the ceiling so fascinating that I found myself staring at it for most of the night? I made lists, explored obscure memories of things my brain belched up and wrote letters I will never send to people I don’t talk to anymore. Now I have that yechy sleep taste in my mouth. I could nap but I know that my beleaguered adrenals are madly pumping away (particularly as I have already had coffee with hubby before he left for the salt mines), so if I actually get to sleep, I will emerge on the other side no doubt feeling like crap. Deep breath.
Workout and a shower, that’s the ticket.
