Don't Call Me Stuporous
The first unsettling order of the day was that the day began without me waking up. Because I was already awake to greet the dawn, as it were. Except I ignored the dawn, kept my back to the window, and worked. Sort of. More like slumped sideways, trying to read the words on my computer screen, which seemed to be growing misty. I'd been up all night trying to finish a project and was fading fast. The dawn called. I grunted dismissively. I do not greet the dawn well, or attractively. At one point, I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror and jumped back in fright.
Finally finished my work, and at around 8:30am, feeling uncannily like lumpy muffin batter, I kind of glopped onto the bed, shut my bleary, achy eyes. And then opened them again, squinting irritably. The room was fairly glowing with blue and yellow morning light--my amusing bedroom does not have a window with accommodating curtains, but instead an entire wall of those very 80's thick glass blocks that are not see-through but do nothing to block out light when you're trying to fall asleep after the sun has risen. Useless 80's glass wall.
So after an entire night of peering groggily at a computer screen, I lay back in bed and, naturally, punished my eyes some more by picking up a book and reading it as I always do: about 3cm from my face. Finally finished the book, and with nothing left to read, I slept. Until about 10:30am when my office called because two of the files I had sent could not be opened and would I mind sending them again. No, of course not, I thought, as I tottered unsteadily toward the computer and, because my eyes refused to focus, took about 10 minutes just to resend the files.
Collapsed on bed. Woke up at 2pm. Had breakfast in bed: a juicy Japanese pear and a chunk of my overly salty olive-tarragon bread spread with plain yogurt, which I thought would cut through the salt a bit. And it did, as well as looked rather glossy and gorgeous, like fresh icing atop a slab of cake (unfortunately, because the yogurt was so shiny and my room, thanks to those 80's glass blocks, is so bright, the picture isn't terribly clear). Was feeling groggy, and I fear that an inordinately long moment stretched out as I lay gaping stupidly and admiringly at my pseudo cake. The bread smelled sweet from the tarragon, almost like anise. After breakfast, started reading a new book, still in bed, sprawled in a foggy sleep-deprived stupor. Had lunch at 4pm: a slice of my rosemary streusel cake. And coffee.
Must. Get. Out. Of. Bed.
...So I read a bit more. In bed. My head felt terribly heavy! Could have fallen over and knocked myself out. Might as well be lying down safely and comfortably, right?
The point of all this text: I'm aging. I'm 27 and I can't handle not sleeping for one night. When I was in high school and college, I pulled all-nighters all the time and did alright. Might have been bouncing off the walls a bit the rest of the day, but I managed well (except maybe that one time an over-zealous friend, determined to save my soul, dragged me to an evening church service the day after an all-nighter--call me a doomed sinner for referring to being in the house of god as a hellish experience, but I sayeth so, and it WAS hell...even before all the joyful singing stopped and the THREE-HOUR sermon began. In Korean--which I do not have the privilege of understanding. Two minutes into the sermon and the follow-up English interpretor started sounding like he was speaking underwater.)
Well, back to today, I eventually roused myself from bed. Did stuff that needed to be done, like take my poor dog for a walk. Was gang-bitten by a vicious cloud of mosquitoes at the park. Came home with my legs looking like reverse Swiss Cheese. Have I mentioned we seem beset by a mosquito plague? It began last night. I went to the balcony screen door and saw that it was completely cloaked in mosquitoes. This morning, I went out for a bit and saw a feathery layer of dead mosquitoes just beyond the screen door. I wonder if more will return tonight.