Last night sucked.
I went to bed late enough -- had to work hard to keep my eyes peeled open and my brain engaged -- reading my latest book. [I'm a terribly slow and easily distracted reader: the dog kept chewing at my toes through the blanket].
Lights off and me snugged up warm and cozy -- sans the wiggly dog. He was retrieved by Pos early on (thank goodness!).
Then I began to twist ..., scrunch ..., curl ..., stretch, roll over ..., grab second pillow, curl ...
I just couldn't settle down.
It was like my brain was good and ready to shut down but my body was waging the "wiggle wars"!
And then the itching and scratching began.
I have no idea why this particular physical annoyance seems to drive me bat shit, but it does.
I try to ignore it: try to imagine it's all psychosomatic.
But my imagination gets the better of me:
Dammit! The dog has fleas!
Bedbugs! OMG! I have a rabid infestation of bedbugs!
Lice! When was the last time there was an outbreak at school. OMG! I'm the next victim!
I have a terminal skin disease--like leprosy--only more subtle and nocturnal in nature!
If I have to scratch ONE MORE TIME I'm going to go flipping crazy!!
And then I proceed to twist ..., scrunch ..., curl ..., stretch, roll over ..., grab second pillow, curl ...,
all over again.
I think I was even doing all of this in what little sleep I managed to get.
Therefore, I woke this morning, feeling like I had a hangover (without the benefit of the fun beforehand!)
I had to carry my weary carcass into work
and I had to pretend to be alert, bright, attentive, and ready for academic action!
There wasn't enough caffeine to get me through a day like today ...