Sleep Log

Thursday. Asleep at 4a.m., woke up at 9 = five hours
Friday. Asleep at 4a.m., woke up at 12 = eight hours
Saturday. Asleep at 6a.m., woke up at 740 = one hour, forty minutes
Sunday. 230a.m., will wake up at 730 = five hours

Which brings me to a grand total of nineteen hours and forty minutes of sleep in four days. Assuming I fall asleep at two thirty this morning, of course.

I want to write! I do, I swear. I want to write something marginally interesting and amusing, and I really want to relate to you the events of this weekend. But I’m SO tired.

It hasn't helped my muse any that this has been an exceptionally weird, confusing, upsetting and odd week.

I discussed wrestling with Andrew last night and we talked about how we both had this urge to just use all our strength and beat the crap out of someone (who would fight back… I’m not into assault and battery). We wanted to fight, and just get some of this excess negative energy out.
And, well, he’s a guy so maybe it’s understandable for him. But lately all I want to do is expend all this restlessness into something physical. But how many opportunities for wrestling do you think I’m gonna get?

And like Annaliese (who incidentally shares this sudden urge to hit something really, really hard) pointed out, maybe we just want to be physical because that’s easier than examining why we’re really so restless and angry and out of sorts.

Well, maybe. But I still wouldn’t mind an out and out fight.
:-)
Are you worried about me yet, dear reader?

Much love, (from an exhausted and out of sorts writer)

'Quel