Sweet Sleep

I’m a sleeper. I’ve always been a sleeper. 8 hours is OK. 10 is perfect. Anything less than 8 and I am a semi-zombie.

I’m lucky to get 6 now-a-days. I’m even luckier if the 6 are uninterrupted. That was not the case last night.

Gracie goes through phases where she wakes up for 2-4 nights in a row and will not go back to sleep for at least an hour. We are at the start of another stretch of this and I am so tired.

Combine this with the fact that I started a mind-numbingly boring rotation in another office at work today and you might have some idea of how my frontal lobe feels right now. Like mush.

Must stay awake. Must stay awake.

I sit in an office that is deathly quite, except for the sound of air vents blowing, lights humming and a desk top water fountain. The environment is quite conducive to sleep. However sleep at work, while trying to make good impressions in another office, is my nemesis right now.

Must stay awake. Must stay awake.

Then I am informed that I will be responding to customer correspondence, but they have already been addressed months ago. Great. So my task really isn’t even a task. It is just busy work with nobody really even caring about what I say in my fake letter to nobody.

Must stay awake. Must stay awake.

I am also really regretting my decision to only drink water this past weekend. I am now going on 60 hours without ANY form of caffeine coursing through my blood stream. During a break I dug the exact amount of change needed for a Diet Coke and the pop machine eats a quarter. So now I have no pop-less for another hour. I hate you Diet Coke machine!!

Must stay awake. Must stay awake.

Eyes on the prize. Eyes on the prize. This is your marathon. Upon its completion you will get sun, surf a baby that is so warn out from the sun and surf that she will sleep 10 solid hours every night. Right?