Thursday, November 15, 2007


I'm coming up on my two-month anniversary at my job. And I'm realizing that no matter how long I work there, it'll always be hard to get out of bed in the morning, leaving our cocoon of warmth. The last hour before I have to get up is my favourite - I sleep harder, because I've checked the clocks all night long and know that the alarms are (both) set, the bed is all warm and cozy, and John's always cuddly. It just makes it sting a bit more, this getting up and being productive so early, knowing that I won't be back home until the evening.

I wake up at least a dozen times throughout the night. Did you ever have that dream before a mid-term or final, the dream wherein you overslept, couldn't find the classroom, forgot your pen and blue book, didn't study, and failed the test -- and then wake up several times that night, paranoid that it was real, that you did oversleep? That happens to me every single night. My body wakes up at least once an hour, many times twice, checking the clocks, making sure that I set both alarms, adjusting the blankets (someone always messes them up), checking to make sure that John's breathing, counting down the hours until I a) have to get up, b) have to be to work, and c) counting the days until I have my weekend.

As an result, I'm always tired. Tired! This tiredness.

Time to go to bed and start the whole cycle over again.

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