Day eleven of insomniatic hell, no I don't care that insomniatic is not a real word and you wouldn't either if you had spent eleven days getting less than three hours sleep per night.
I'm sleepy, cranky and hurting everywhere. I'm in the mood to fight with someone and will probably end up doing just that when the significant other wakes up and reads my hateful email... I didn't intend to be hateful but I was.
Along with the lack of sleep there has been a lack of interest in food... I have barely been able to choke down one meal per day, for anyone that has ever spent any time around me this would be by far the most shocking thing I could say, I haven't even wanted coffee. Maybe it is time to go see the doctor...
Now on the upswing, I have successfully lost the ten or so pounds that I've been meaning to drop and the lack of sleep has allowed time for several projects I had been putting off. I just have to hope that I don't doze off while knitting and poke out an eye.
Chocolate cake, that I would like, that would be tasty. Is it worth it to me to go and dig out the ingredients, mix and bake said cake at 4:36 am? I think not. I do however think that later this afternoon I will gravitate towards the kitchen and attempt to make a black beast sans spring form pan.
Well I'm out of smokes, guess it's time to go on an adventure to the car and start digging, pretty sure I hid a partial pack from myself in there.
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