Small change, two-dollars and forty cents; miniscule, minute even. What it represents is tantamount to that place freezing over. Well, no, not really, but come on, a fine? Levied against me? For not one, but two overdue library books? Yeah, that's what happens when you don't give them back, on time.
Shit. I feel like such a deadbeat. I don't remember ever missing a due date because I wasn't finished with the book. What? Three weeks, hell six (because I did renew one, once) not enough time to finish a book? This has been happening more frequently of late. The struggle to complete tasks, even things that I want, or like doing. I've been losing focus. I. can. not. concentrate.
Something has got to give.
I can't pin-point the exact moment it started. It may have emerged sometime last year. The insomnia started last year, shortly after my forty-fifth birthday. I've gotten fairly accustomed to operating on about four hours of sleep. Physically, I feel pretty well. The concentration, or rather, lack thereof, is most likely a by-product of the little sleep syndrome.
The doctor advises; no caffeine after noon, done. No exercise at night, done. Take a warm bath, done. I've tried warm milk, herbal teas, wine, whiskey and song, you know soft music. Nope. Nothing has worked.
I'm not having dreams either. Considering how little sleep I'm getting, not dreaming might be good, but still, I miss my dreams. I drew more and with greater ease and fluidity, when I dreamt.
While discussing this with myself the other day (yeah, I am the only one who really listens to me about me) it occurred to me that my mind is both wired and weary. The wired continuing to overpower the weary until weary gives in and wired takes charge. The net result is hours of wakefulness for this woman. So, how to trick wired into assuming the weary position?
I don't know. But, I am going to take another step. I'm altering the PTG schedule. I'm going to cut out three work hours, which if you factor in commuting is really five hours.
F I V E H O U R S ! To have five hours more a week to sit unencumbered by phones, interviewees, commuters or late evening revelers would mean more time to give weary a fighting chance, possibly even a leg up on wired. Maybe, giving weary time to transform into a restful being.
Then, maybe I can take a nap, get up refreshed and finish a book or something.