Hey, life? Are you kidding me?

Sleep is overrated... Are you FREAKING kidding me?

Sleep is overrated....
said no one that ever had insomnia. In fact, I'm so tired I have no clue who or why anyone would say that -- Maybe I saw it on a Facebook post or maybe I dreamed it - - nope, no chance of that one since I CAN'T SLEEP!

FYI - I may never get this post done because every other word is spelled/typed wrong (in fact I just misspelled spelled and misspelled - TWICE). That should serve as point #1. You need sleep, precious sleep to function on a semi-normal level of your capabilities. Poop - I ought to just quit correcting the spelling to further emphasize my point but part of me just can't look that incompetent all the time.

Sleep is amazing! Even if you have bad dreams it is still pretty darn good. It's like a mini-vacation from life. Plus, when you wake up (after the needed caffeine of course), you are able to do such tasks as dialing a phone or tying your shoes without trying to run through your memory log to figure out the first step.

Are you getting that I haven't slept? It is 3:15 p.m. right now. Part of my mind/body says, "Hey girl, lay down, take a nap. You deserve it." Oddly, enough this voice has an Italian/New York accent. We don't hear that often in Oklahoma. Anyway, I know it is a trick to torture me further. See, if I do go turtle under my covers, one of either two things will happen.

1. I will sleep, interrupted occasionally by my 18 year-old son that still finds it easier to ask me where the scissors are rather than look in the drawer we have always kept the scissors in. However, I will sleep which is a backhanded blessing, because it is 3:20 p.m. now. So if say I slept until 6:00 p.m. I wouldn't be able to go to sleep at 10:00 p.m. so I will be perpetually in a state of day/night confusion like a new born infant except no one is going to rock me and pat my back.

or

2. I will curl on the couch and NOT be able to fall asleep which in my sleep deprived state will convince my cloudy, non-neuron connecting brain that I have somehow forgotten how to sleep. Therefore, the paranoia of not sleeping will keep me from sleeping! (I think this may be turning into a bigger catastrophe than the time I read the directions wrong on my estrogen --- but seriously, if I'm old enough for estrogen don't you think someone might figure out that I might be old enough to have difficulty reading print meant for an ant colony?} Oh, I'm digressing aren't I?

Would you like to know why I can't sleep? Because I'm dumb... I don't learn from previous mistakes... more correctly, I forget them. Every March, my students ask me what I'm going to do over Spring Break. I think they think I'm jealous that they are going skiing or to Disneyland or Cancun. But every year I just smile sweetly and respond, "I'm going to sleep." And thus the curse of Karma commences (I love a good alliteration that requires very little effort on my part.)

Friday night -- I couldn't sleep because I was so excited it was Spring Break and I was going to get to sleep!

Saturday night - okay - I don't even remember Saturday night because my days and nights are as one now. I think I was home. Ohhhhh yes, my son's box springs broke so I gave him mine. So now my bed is a mattress on the floor like some poor hippie college kid who took the mattress off someone's curb.... Don't judge me. Anyway, I can't roll over to get up because well that's just floor. it's not like I can swing my leg over a six inch side of a mattress. So I figured the least embarrassing (in case I have a peeping tom) and easiest way to get up, is to lie on my stomach with my feet toward the end of the bed and do a sorta of backward scorpion crawl until I hit floor with my toes and then kind of stick my booty up and walk my hands in -- I pretend it is yoga so I don't have to feel bad about not exercising. To be honest, my boobs are not fond of this method and are petitioning that I look into other options. So since getting off my mattress (I refuse to call it a bed) is pretty much an Olympic sport now, my bladder decided it would be fun to have to pee every half hour to an hour. I bet cumulatively I scorpion crawled a mile on Saturday night.

Last night? Oh, sorry, I can't tell you about last night....I've taken an oath of secrecy (but not celibacy -- hubba hubba.... Just kidding! Or am I?)

I'm tired, so tired. Where is Mr. Sandman? That's a good song. "Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream, make him the cutest I've ever seen." Am I rambling? Do I care? Maybe I'm asleep, dreaming about blogging about not being able to sleep! That would be the berries! I don't think so though, because I don't think even I would care about typos in a dream.

Do you think it would be too weird to have some elective surgery like my appendix out so I could have that amazing mask put on me and be told to count back from 100 and not even get the question of why out of my mouth before I'm in a drug induced sleep? Hmmmm. that may have to wait, I haven't met my deductible this year. But then again: money or sleep? It is a close toss up. Well, come to think of it, I have neither so they both suck or are essential - I've confused myself again.

Borrowing an AK47 to shoot the sheep,

Audra (I MISTYPED MY NAME - TWICE! What the frek?)