I am awake, it’s past 3 in the morning, and the stuff I took to sleep doesn’t outweigh the post nasal drip that makes me cough myself back to consciousness even though I’m “not sick anymore”. I’m having one of those moments where I realize I’m old enough to know that every day counts because when I thought about it, fitting that dream trip to Sweden in between changing and immediately amping up my career and hopefully getting off my meds so I can get pregnant (etc, etc) and eventually establishing my household the way I really want it to operate… fitting in that trip to Sweden is not a joke, involves money and logistics and possibly abandoning a hypothetical child to its father, and every day counts, even though I am not all that old and have plenty of time.
Hey. One thing I have learned is that breaks from school really mess with me, like some kind of Robert Goren mindfoo from Criminal Intent. I’m bad with change, I’m bad with lack of routine, I may be a dreamer but I am also a worker bee and without a hive and a queen I am driven into some obscure places.
And then sometimes it feels like I can make every day count. I can go to Memphis (after I’ve been wretched and ill for a week) and the day after I get back go to another social engagement and then have something important to do every day after that. It’s not impossible. Neither is Sweden. Neither is breathing out of both nostrils. It will happen again, maybe tomorrow.
It’d all be a teensy bit more reasonable-sounding if I could get to sleep though.