I Blame Gravity.

Update to the last entry: I ended up going back to bed, and I actually ended up being an hour and a half late for work because I OVERSLEPT.  Ahh… What comedy.

I would really benefit from getting my shit together.  I don’t seem to care much at all for these last few weeks of what I’ve been told is the greatest time of my life.  Perhaps because as soon as it’s all over, I have approximately four months to figure out what’s next.  My lease is up August 31, and I don’t know where I’m going to go.

And I don’t want to stay.

Teenagers Scare the Living Shit Outta Me.

I have to be to work at seven this morning, so the fact that my alarm clock is set for four-thirty is in itself about an hour outside of excessive.  The fact that I woke up at three-thirty of my own accord after less than four hours’ sleep is, then, two hours outside of obnoxious.

I don’t know what’s wrong with my brain these days.  It feels almost like the insomnia is kicking back in again after at least a few months swept beneath the sheets.  Twice this weekend I went to bed at six in the morning, only to wake up on my own four hours later… when I could have slept for days.  I thought that the generally sleep deprived would sleep forever if given the chance, but no.  Not my stupid brain.

Not only is it a pain to find anything to do during excess time so early in the morning, but if yesterday was any sort of example the motion of the commute will relax me just enough to make me feel completely exhausted by the time I arrive at work, regardless of how awake I feel at home.

I should be trying to be productive. I should, like, go back to bed.  Or really, I should probably pack for my impending last-minute-two-day-trip to Michigan this weekend.  I’ve been wondering when I’d have time for that, since I’m working straight on until takeoff, really.

I’m going to be a sister-in-law!