falcongrrl

Now who you know better than Hove, riddle me that?

If nothing else, I hope that when (if? no when) I finally get over this respiratory whatever-it-is, I will appreciate sleep. Deep, long, uninterrupted sleep. Sleep without coughing or sniffling or wheezing. Dave-is-here-and-all-is-right-with-the-world sleep, not restless, whatwasthatnoise kind of sleep. Deep, precious, refreshing sleep.

who you know better than Hove?

Last night I...well, maybe I can blame not thinking clearly on the fact that it has easily been a week, possibly even closer to a month, since I've had the kind of sleep I just described. But El was having trouble getting to sleep herself, and I was frustrated, so I turned on soft music and opened a novel just for me and read and told her it was quiet time. The book was my first Spider Robinson novel, and I expected a fun romp, and I got absorbed, and Ellie went to sleep, and I kept reading.

Note to self: even if a detective story with telepathy seems like a light pleasure read, do not gloss over the words serial killer on the back cover. Just don't.

...riddle me that?

It's doubtful I would have slept much anyway. I don't sleep well when Dave's away. And lately I've been wheezing and coughing and hacking and dozing off with the help of a Fisherman's Friend despite the advice that tells you not to. But reading a book about a serial killer, even a fictional book, just showed spectacularly poor judgment. And I kept reading, because of course I wanted to know that the characters were okay. I had read the end, because I'm one of those people who reads the end first, but still...I wasn't sure how much they'd have to endure, if everyone would be okay in all senses by the end of the book. And they mostly were, except for me, lying awake and listening to the house creak at 2:30am.

Who you know

Not a lot of sleep. I console myself with the fact that it's definitely more than I got when the kids were infants

better than Hove

but i really wish Dave were home right now

riddle me that?

and I can't really sleep

so who you know

because i have a doctor's appointment at twelve, which is probably a good thing. And then maybe medicine to pick up (I hope). And I need to get a doctor's note for Ellie from last week

better than Hove

because the pre-K needs it. And I would have picked it up last week, when we were actually at the doctor's office, but I didn't realize that I needed one. Luckily, the office is very helpful and has the note ready for me; I just have to pick it up.

riddle me that?

But what I really wish I could do right now is sleep, the good kind of sleep. And i just hope I can stumble through the day. And take care of the kids and just do all the things that need doing. And I find myself fantasizing that they will say, oh, you need to go to the hospital, and I'll have to scramble for childcare and friends to pick the kids up, and then I'll go to the hospital and they'll give me something to help me sleep and open my airways and stop coughing and the sheets will be crisp and clean and I won't mind the crappy pillows. And I'll dream of long haired boys and short-haired girls who write poems and look through telescopes and listen to hiphop.

who you know who you know who you know better than Hove

I really hate hospitals; I don't even like visiting

riddle me that

so daydreaming about going to the hospital is a clear sign something's fucked up. But I am going to the doctor. And tonight I'm not cooking; we'll get pizza or something. Today I am doing as little as possible. And hopefully things will be better tomorrow.

In the meantime...

...make it stop...