I am averaging 5 hours of sleep these days.
I can't seem to get it all done, and it ALLLLL needs to be done.
I am looking in my school bag right now and wondering when it is all going to get done. I'm wondering, but I don't have an answer to that one.
Pretty sure things are procreating in that bag. It's like this freaking magical bag out of the pages of a Stephen King novel or something.
In order to get my butt in gear (and allow myself precious coffee time), I have been dragging my butt out of bed at 4:45 in the morning -- just call me crazy. It wouldn't be the first time I've heard that one. Yet, here it is 9:42 p.m., and I am no where near being done. I am seven hours away from getting up again, and hours and hours of work left to do.
That doesn't count the piles sitting on my floor at school. Yes! I said floor. I have resorted to creating TO DO piles on my floor at school.
Y'all. Who does that?
Recently, I've found myself looking at my cat as she sleeps, stretched out and cozy, with a great deal of envy. It's a sure sign you've sunk to a new low when you are envious of your feline. I mean, she licks her hindquarters for heaven's sake ... okay, theoretically, -- it's awfully messy for an animal that is supposed to be a self-groomer. But that is a post for another time.
The question becomes, will I ever sleep again? Will I ever get a good seven to eight hours of sleep again?
Or am I resigned to this five to six hours business?
A few more nights of this, and I'm going to start looking my age. Forty-five year old bags under the eyes and all. Drawn ... wrinkled ... gray hairs sticking out further than they already do ... I'm envisioning the old lady filter on Snap Chat, and that filter is scary. SCARY. I've never been a proponent of plastic surgery, but after seeing that Snap Chat pic? Holy wrinkles, Batman!
I'd rather say I'm making exhaustion look good!
Yeah ... I don't believe it either.