midnight, friday: can't fucking sleep. talk to chris for awhile. go to room. try to sleep. fail. get up. go drink some whiskey. sit up and talk to chris some more. doze a little bit. finally go to bed again at four and manage to sleep.
8:30 a.m. saturday: phone rings. it's mom. we have our normal conversation when she wakes me up: "you sound tired." "yea, it's 8:30." "yea, it's 8:30, you should be up." "i was up til 4, mom." "why?!" because i can? because i couldn't sleep? both? rinse and repeat for another week.
9:30: get off phone. try to sleep. give up.
saturday afternoon: take a couple of half dozing nappish things watching people play tony hawk.
saturday night. doze some during men in tights. doze for most of sister mary explains all. finally go to bed at somewhere around 4 a.m. again... or was it 5?
this morning, somewhere around 8:30 am: "what the hell... ugh... alison... yah, she has to go to work, doesn't she?"
lay in bed and listen to people do dishes for a bit. give up and get out of bed soon after.
now most of the rest of the house is asleep, i should, by all rights, be exhausted, and... yah. i'll try bed shortly. if that doesn't work, i'll apply whiskey again.
i keep having to remind myself not to cross my right leg underneath me like i normally do when sitting at my computer.
it seems that we've decided on the exorcist for valentine's day viewing. *grin*
i hate the damned holiday, i really do. last year was probably my best one in a long time. my second best one was the year before, in Utah, when i had to close and was at the store past 1 in the morning. sad, eh?