I’ve been having a bit of the insomnia lately.
And by a bit, I mean that I might as well take a third job working the night shift somewhere because of WHY NOT? I’M ALREADY AWAKE. If I had any nursing skills and didn’t faint at the sight of too much blood, and if I understood how much morphine running through an IV is actually too much, I’d apply at Small Town’s hospital. At some point last night, I hauled the blankets and the pillows out to the sofa, hoping that a change of scenery might lull me into a total distraction, which would put me to sleep. It must have worked, because I woke up a little disoriented this morning.
And by a little disoriented, I mean that I woke up looking like the girl in the movies who finds herself sleeping on the living room floor with her hair sticking out in thirty-three different directions, because the pina coladas were simply too good.
Only there were no pina coladas involved. At first I had absolutely no idea where I was, and my hair was nineteen kinds of horrible.
I suspect it was all the wind that had messed it up. I’d been dreaming that I was riding in a car with our friend, Bryan, because we were on a mission to find a beautiful necklace for my friend, Amy. (Who happens to be married to Bryan.) Bryan was driving, while I held a giant, poster-sized advertisement that was mounted on heavy-duty cardstock and held pictures of approximately fifty different necklaces. Bryan wanted to buy a new necklace for Amy, and he had narrowed his choices down to fifty. (He has always prided himself on his decision-making skills.) Our goal in my dream was to visit all fifty necklaces at various jewelry shops in order to decide which one was the loveliest in person, and then THAT would be Amy’s anniversary present. Since traffic was a little thick, Bryan opted to drive on the side of the interstate.
The side of the interstate where there is no road, because it’s grass and dirt. Only it was clearly JANUARY in my dream, because we were driving through the snow, and dodging trees, while there was a perfectly good interstate ten feet to our left. I had the window down (which is something that I do all the time in the middle of January), and all the wind was blowing my hair every which direction, and I was using a black Sharpie marker to cross off the necklaces on the poster board that we’d already seen.
Eventually the wind coming in through the open window of the car ripped the poster board in half, and the top portion flew out of the vehicle. We were apparently on a very tight schedule, because I got out to begin trudging through all the snow to find the missing piece of the poster, so that we would know which necklaces we wanted to look at, while Bryan went on ahead to the next jewelry shop without me. I told him not to worry, because someone would come along and give me a ride, and, if no one did, I’d just HITCHHIKE, people, into town.
I love the small fact that I am far braver in my dreams than I am in real life.
And so there I was, schlepping along the interstate in knee-deep snow, looking for half of a missing poster advertising fancy necklaces, when I woke up and really had no idea where I even was.
Was I well rested?
Not at all. And my hair was absolutely undergoing the worst case of bedhead that America has ever seen.
And that, people, is how I got the day started.
After a shower and some time spent with the curling iron and the mascara wand, I didn’t look like I’d just been hiking along the interstate, contemplating sticking my thumb out and getting a ride from a perfect stranger.
I also threw all the ingredients for a pot of beef and broccoli soup into our crockpot this morning, because it was cold and wet and downright rainy.
And this comes after our weather on Monday, when I MOANED and GROANED and VOCIFEROUSLY COMPLAINED to Hubs about the HEAT! I CAN’T STAND THE HEAT ALREADY! It was 79 degrees in our house on Monday night, and I thought I was melting. I told Hubs that I didn’t understand why we HAD central air conditioning, if we couldn’t simply turn it on the very second I considered the temperature to be unbearable. I griped that Going Green and Saving Energy were not terms that I wanted to hear. It was 79 degrees in my kitchen, and I felt like I was having a hot flash bad enough to spontaneously combust.
Hubs told me I was being just a titch dramatic. I told Hubs that in another twenty minutes, he’d be married to a pile of smoking ash.
Yes, we HAVE central air conditioning, people, but apparently we are not allowed to use it until things REALLY GET HOT around here.
Like in July.
And then last night, I sat at the boy’s baseball game, spitting sunflower seeds with Hubs, and I let him know that OH MY LANDS! I AM FREEZING! SIMPLY FREEZING! I was ready to start a small fire in the nearby trashcan, just so I could warm my hands like a homeless person, and now, today, I’ve worn a sweatshirt all day long and made a pot of piping hot soup.
I imagine that Hubs’ joy of being married to me knows no bounds. Clearly, I complete him.
The local theater in Small Town, USA offers summer movie matinees to the kids once a week, and Jodi and I took our troops to see Yogi Bear in action on the big screen this morning.
And THAT, people, turned into ninety minutes of my life that I will never get back. I’m pretty sure that the four-year-old sitting directly behind me, who kept kicking the back of my seat, could have written a better script and gotten better performances out of his actors, if he’d been sitting in the director’s chair, screaming “LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION!” through a megaphone.
The only thing GOOD about the movie was the three-minute, short feature film that was played at the beginning. Wile E. Coyote was after the Roadrunner, because, much like me and the laundry, that’s all Wile E. does. He chases the Roadrunner, day in and day out, and this morning I found myself CROSSING MY FINGERS that today would be the day that he caught that nasty bird. I figure he’s earned it, after all the times he’s been run over by trains and ACME delivery vans.
Later this afternoon, I hightailed it over to Christy’s house for coffee, because occasionally I drink coffee beyond the walls of Starbucks, as long as Coffee Mate is heavily involved. We managed to rattle on like two hens in a coop who haven’t seen one another for sixteen years, until even I was almost dizzy with the conversation. But, sweet mercy! It was all perfect, and the caffeine high did wonders for the TOTAL LACK OF SLEEP kind of day that I’d been suffering.
And talking about sweatshirts that zip up as opposed to pullover-type hoodies, and admitting that 7:45 is an AWFUL time to start a youth baseball game, EVEN IN THE SUMMER, PEOPLE, and discussing the latest trends in hairstyles made me FORGET! JUST PLUM FORGET! that I had been subjected to a low-budget children’s movie involving a talking, computer-generated bear for NINETY ENTIRE MINUTES.
And then, because of WHY NOT, I sent the boy clear across town to hang out with one of his friends, because the squirrely little fellow called and invited the boy over for the afternoon. I hugged the boy good-bye and gave him VERY SPECIFIC ORDERS of not to ignite any paper with a magnifying glass. Thankfully, the good Lord above seconded my thoughts here, and He plum hid the sun behind all the rainclouds today.
And since I was in the neighborhood of the gal who cuts my hair, and since Christy and I had just been discussing POWDERED HAIR TEXTURIZER, and since I was plum out of my own bottle of the stuff at home, I stopped in to buy some more.
And my hair stylist just happens to sell Scentsy on the side, because of GREAT BUSINESS OPPORTUNITY and WORK FROM HOME. (In addition to working in your salon!)
I am finally at a point in my life where I am willing to admit that I am addicted to Scentsy wax. I always THINK that I can smell the fragrances and just quit. Just one smell, and I’m fine, and the checkbook is still good. I can smell the test pots of wax, and I can walk away at any time. But clearly I have a problem, because I went in for powdered hair texturizer, and she told me, “Honey, I’m placing a Scentsy order tonight,” and I went weak in the knees and snagged two.
Don’t tell Hubs. He’s already threatened to send me to Scentsy Rehab, and we can’t afford it, because I spent all the money that rehabilitation would cost us on brightly-colored, sweet-smelling wax.
And the blog post tonight?
Yeah. I KNOW that it sort of hops all over the place like a a coyote trying to catch himself a roadrunner for dinner, but that’s what happens when I haven’t slept in four consecutive nights.
I just hope that TONIGHT we can quickly find the most beautiful necklace in the world for Amy, so that I can get in off the interstate and get some sleep.
Happy Wednesday, people.