I noticed late summer, during the IVF-that-wasn't debacle, I stopped being able to sleep on Monday nights. Granted, there were other nights I didn't sleep well, but Mondays were the nights I literally barely closed my eyes all night. I thought maybe that's because I take an extra DHEA pill on Mondays, but I do that on Wednesdays and Fridays without a problem. Hmmm.
I'm not particularly anxious (despite being back at work and being up for tenure and being in the wait!). But I woke last night at 2:20--from the prometrium sleep of death--and finally fell back to a skittery, barely asleep sleep when our fucking smoke detector went off at 6:15. Which I suppose would have been a welcome thing if our house were actually on fire and/or we were going to die of carbon monoxide poisoining. Neither of which seemed to be a problem.
LG came into my bed this morning and asked me for my good things (which we usually do at night). I grumbled, I'm tired, I don't have any. Of course, LG asking for my good things is a good thing, but, really, I'm not a human being without sleep.
Somehow I have still managed to scrape together an abstract for a conference that is due tomorrow. Now I have to do something resembling class prep and take two surly kitties to the vet for rabies shots. Grrrrr.
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