Most days, I have to plan my mornings around the bus schedule which is changing slightly on Monday. I’m losing the very bus I used to always get before I started going in more than an hour earlier.
So, that means I will either have to catch the bus before it (which I just managed to make today) or the bus after it (which is later than I like to get in). I had initially planned to be in at 6:15 but when the alarm went off at 5, I reset it.
I didn’t go to bed until nearly 1 because I fell asleep for a few hours last night and found myself wide awake when I should have been going to bed. When I finally did go to bed, I was awakened several times in the night by many things, not the least of which was pain in my left hand knuckle joints.
My sleep patterns are totally shot at this point.
I’ve already seen all the reports on that recent study which says that less than 6 hours of sleep a night sets you up for premature death. (I generally get 5 to 5.5 hours on weeknights and anywhere from 7 to 10 hours a night on weekends.) So, I’ve made a genuine effort to try for at least six hours. It just doesn’t seem to be working too well. It’s confusing the hell out of poor Ozzie. Nearly every morning, he has this look on his face that says, "Really?" when I flip on the light. It’s confusing the mother.
It’s confusing me!
On those days when I do sleep a little later – like today – I find myself springing awake at 4 or 4:30 wondering: Did I oversleep?!
I’ve been trying to eat better, incorporating more fruits and vegetables and lots less junk. It’s going about as well as the sleep thing; I’ve gained a pound!
I’m not sure what’s got me so wound. Blind ambition? Things are going well at work, so well, maybe too well. I think this change is exactly what I needed. Could that little touch of paranoia be the culprit?
I think then that this means I have a new mantra for this weekend: Chill the f**k out.