More than ironic…

Ironic. It is 2 a.m. and I am awake. This after blogging just yesterday (actually, just hours ago) about doing more with less time — because my brain had started sleeping through the night, making my days shorter. (I actually was lamenting my sleeping through the night. What was I thinking?!) I got up a little after 2, figured it was too early to really be up, and so ate a bowl of Raisin Bran, followed by a short glass of prune juice — because if I am old enough to awaken naturally at 2 a.m. then I must be old enough to need all this natural dietary fiber and “encouragement.” And then I went back to bed.

Ahhhh! Bed. Another precious two hours to sleep… but my brain didn’t cooperate:

• “Oh my! Christmas is Wednesday, and I still don’t have a tree….”
• “I could get up and write my blog post for the day.”
• “Sleep, sleep. You have a stuffy nose and are fighting something. You need sleep.”
• “Ugh. I forgot to type up the announcements.”
• “Dare I wear boots with a dress?”
• “I still haven’t done my lesson plans…”
• “I don’t want to bother with a tree this year. It is so late. All that work for so little time…”
• “I could get up and make that necklace for Diana… probably should, since my lesson plans are clearly late.”
• “Oh, I need to contact Dana — or Beryl — to get the amended schedule out to teachers and posted in the halls this morning…”
• “Blog, blog… what am I going to write about today? Maybe Christmas trees. Maybe I could ask my readers their thoughts about getting a tree at this late date. My parents always got the tree on Christmas Eve, which means I’m still early. Maybe I should just ask my kids if they mind opening gifts around a lighted ficus tree this year….”
• “Maybe I should allow Diana to go to the senior breakfast this morning instead of me…”
• ” ‘Early to bed, early to rise’ … no, no, no, you didn’t go to bed early enough to get up this early!”
• ” “Let sleeping dogs lie’ … wait, what?
• “Fake it till you make it”?

Uggggghhhhhh! I cannot fake sleep; I am too awake already; I might as well get out of bed.

I did. I wrote. I attempted photos. Shot a cat who kept getting in the way. (With my camera phone, people. Stop hating on cats.) I still don’t know what I want to do about a Christmas tree. My stuffy nose is now running profusely. The announcements are merely running through my mind, yet to make their way to documents others can access. I am still iffy on wearing boots with tights and a dress. I wrote no lesson plans. Want no Christmas tree. Made no necklace. Did not contact Dana or Beryl, but did determine that breakfast — even with 24 seniors — sounds good…

And I am watching my sleeping cat lie. And I am jealous. It is ironic, isn’t it? I want more sleep.