I am a chronic insomniac. This is a fun new development over the last ten years, post brain trauma. I suspect it is the product of the chemical change in my brain (neurons regrowing and developing to cover the nine centimeter’s or so of blank grey matter) versus the psychological fear that I am going to go to sleep one night and wake up to discover that my grandfather is dead and that I have to drive thirteen hours in a straight line and deal with an estrangement that that leads me to being the only person in history to lose weight at a Mexican funeral. Or possibly wake up and discover that a whole week of your life has passed and that everything you eat is blended and served with a jaunty straw and no one will believe you when you say, well, anything. Or wake up and discover that not only are you away from you home but that you are now cohabitating with your husband’s girlfriend ( which is a conundrum in and of itself ) and aren’t allowed to be alone, at any time and for any reason, and that no one has ever told what happened to create this terrible, horrible bad day that never ends.
Anyway, I am up very late tonight because in spite of the various medications that I take to help me sleep, this is apparently one of those nights that I need a Park Ranger with Bear Tranquilizer to take me down.
I think I’m up because I don’t really want to open the box and see what the cat looks like. I’d much rather imagine the cat gamboling about like a bunny.