I am up and about after one hour of sleep. One. Hour. As if to make up for the times a couple of weeks ago when I slept for more than five minutes, my insomnia has been steadily encroaching this week. Each night I’ve fallen asleep later and later, culminating in a sleep-time “last night” (actually this morning) of 7:45AM. It is now 8:45AM, Connor is awake, and I feel like the walking dead. If this continues as it’s begun, I will probably not sleep at all tonight and break down in hateful yelling at the bed by Saturday. Whee.
I am preparing for Michael’s trip to Denver tomorrow. Which is my birthday. Which is a trip I was supposed to be taking. Which has made us prohibitively broke for the month. Which means I’ll be doing exactly nothing for my birthday, except starting a four-day-long stretch of no husband, no car, no money. And did I mention that he’s going to stay with my grandmother for a night, visit my friends, and live it up in a swank hotel while attending an anime convention? Hate.
I am trying to figure out the rheumatologist thing, because my prescriptions are running low and I’d like to continue to be semi-functional and in only tolerable amounts of pain. This has turned out to be interestingly circular — I call the office, they tell me they have one appointment on Friday and no appointments for a month afterward, I ask if I can make pay arrangements, they tell me I shouldn’t make the appointment without up-front payment at hand, I tell them I can’t gather the money without the appointment, they tell me to hurry because there’s only one appointment free, I ask about payment arrangements again… Medical care is ridiculous. Are there any faith healers in the house?
I am going to feed my kid and attempt to convince him to play quietly in his room so I can sleep just a little bit more, which will probably turn out to be another circular exercise in futility. A pox upon thee, Wednesday. I just want to sleep.