Got a call about, of all things, those compression stockings I ordered way, way back when my leg first got infected.
Like I even give a shit any more.
But answering the call did force me to get out of bed, and that woke me up enough to realize that I was super hungry and so here I am, eating lunch and blogging when I would rather still be asleep.
Because I am, as usual, super sleepy at this time. And that makes the words not want to come out and play.
It’s hard to have something to say when you are barely conscious.
And man, am I getting tired of this bullshit.
Every goddamned day I am slogging through turgid swamps of sleepiness while I eat my lunch and try to put some goddamned words on the page.
It’s very stressful. I would much rather sleep until I was done but either hunger or the need to pee always wakes me up and then I got to eat and blog.
I am getting so sick of this that I am pondering separating the eating and the blogging. Eat lunch while watching stuff via YouTube, then go back to sleep and do part one of my blogging when I wake up again.
A radical step, by my standards, but potentially worth it if it saves me from this god damned bullshit every god damned day.
Well that’s all i got in me right now. I am done eating and I am going back to bed,.
See you on the flipflop.
Not feeling well
Let’s make it official : this was not your average “sleepy day”.
In fact, I am pretty sure my body must be fighting off an infection because I have been wiped out all day. As in, it’s a little before 7:30 pm and only now do I feel awake.
I spent almost the entire afternoon in fitful, tortured slumber, broken up only by trips to the bathroom and abortive attempts to play video games which ended with a whimper when I realized I just had too little brain available for them.
That’s not normal. Even when I stay up till like 9 am or 10 am, I am usually caught up on sleep by the late afternoon. And I went to bed at 8:30 am this morning.
There’s one rogue variable though : the fact that it is finally summer and in summer I tend to have tortured and unpleasant sleep in the afternoons.
It’s the heat, I assume. I am prone to heat stroke and heat sickness, and if you combine heat stroke with my sleep apnea, you get a dream vacation in upper Hell.
Honestly, I would rather have an infection. Because an infection will pass after a week or so, whereas summer ain’t going to be over till like, September.
Still, I can take steps. The first would be to avoid napping in the afternoon.
That would be fairly tall order. As patient readers know, I use naps asa form of mood regulation. Napping resets my background anxiety level, and if I try skipping it, I grow more and more anxious and the effort of staying awake starts really stressing me out.
And I know this is an abuse of sleep, in a sense. All the sleep hygiene guides tell me that I would be better off sleeping in one eight hour block like a normal human being instead of splitting it into two naps and a single 4 hour ish block.
But I don’t really feel like I have a choice. My mind is too disturbed and restless for me to be able to stay asleep for eight hours.
Hell, to even get that four hour block, I have to take Mirtazapine.
Dunno how the hell I would get eight hours. But I get the feeling it would involve an IV drip and someone to turn me now and then so I don’t get bedsores.
And possibly a blackjack to the base of the skull.
What can I say, the weather is always unsettled in this head of mine. True rest is an alien concept to me.
I mean, I think I remember sleeping reasonably well as a child. It still took me a really long time to get to sleep, but I think I woke up feeling okay-ish.
Don’t quote me on that, though.
RIP Uncle Sonny
Well shit. Just got a Facebook message from my brother that my Uncle Sonny died in his sleep last night.
Fuck. 🙁 I guess it’s not a total surprise, as he’s had heart problems since the 80’s and it was kind of amazing he lived as long as he did.
But it’s still a shock, and I miss him already. He was my first real boss. Before I went to work for him, I had only had my paper route, which I did pretty much entirely alone, and my summers pedaling my Dickie Dee ice cream cart around, which was also a jbo I did pretty much entirely on my own.
I mean, I had bosses, but I only saw the one for my paper route when I turned in the money for the papers and I only saw my Dickie Dee boss at the beginning and end of every working day.
And I know it was as a favour to my mother that Uncle Sonny hired me. And I know that there were times I gave him reason to wish he hadn’t.
I was much younger and more clueless and less responsible than I am now, and there were times I acted more like a teenager than a young man in his 20s.
But he put up with me, probably because I was very good with the customers. I am that rare person who actually enjoys customer service.
To me, it’s people coming to me looking for things I can give them, even if it’s just ringing up their purchases.
I have such a low opinion of my own competence that simply being able to do that competently over and over again makes me very happy.
Back then, I didn’t think my Uncle Sonny liked me very much. But now I can see that he was just somewhat cranky by nature.
Anyhow, RIP Uncle Sonny, and my condolence to my cousins Dale, Nola, and Blaine.
Hang in there, Mom.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.