I realize that two posts in one day is a little narcissistic but…
Somebody please tell me to go to bed. I’m back to being able to sleep. I don’t even need the half an ambien anymore. My kids were both knocked out, fully asleep by 7:30 tonight. It’s almost 10 and I haven’t moved from my chair. I watched food porn (Alton Brown and that guy from Queer Eye) for a while until the annoying cutetsy couple came on and fed each other comfort food from their lush outdoor seating area. I had to turn that off. I’ve cruised by all my old online haunts: ebay, Fabric Fairy, Facebook, all the blogs I love, my 5 email accounts, Yahoo News….repeat, ad nauseaum. It’s a time suck.
I have almost 60 books on Goodreads to plow through, I have a sewing table full of projects to be started and UFOs to finish. Laundry. Monkeys to glue (shower curtain rings…cute but not sturdy). Laundry to fold. Blah, blah.
But I’m tired. I can’t hold my eyes open. And it’s like this everynight. And the next thing I know, it’s midnight and my contacts are about ready to fling out of my dry eyeballs. And the girls are up at 7. Really, really up for the day.
It’s probably a good thing that I have kids. Or I’d be one of those losers in the bar every night and dragging ass to some crappy job every day. At least the kids keep me sober. I don’t stay up all night. Every night.
But somebody tell me to go to bed. I feel better when I do. I get more done during the day. I’m a better mommy. But there is something about this time, my time, that I don’t want to end.