The problem with being half nocturnal, half diurnal, a sleep-onset insomniac, a sleep-maintaining insomniac and an early riser is—well, self-explanatory, really. I’m awake during times when I should be sleeping. I should be asleep during times when I would normally be awake. And usually, the times when my body decides it’s finally exhausted enough to sleep, it’s at such an inopportune time that I just don’t get to.
In short, I’m fucked.
Also, beyond tired and more likely to catch whatever cold or flu is making its way through the population.
Went to bed at around 4am this morning and woke up at 8am: hungry. Yeah, I am apparently ruled by my appetites, and today my body decided that, rather than remain asleep and possibly get working on a sleep deficit that rivals the national debt, I had to have oatmeal.
Oatmeal, gentle readers. What. The. Fuck.
Fortunately I have oatmeal in the house (this is a minor miracle, and also the only food I have in the house. I shop for food about as often as I clean my room). Sated with said apple-cinnamon flavored oatmeal and still exhausted, I decided to go back to sleep for the next several hours.
Sleep deficit: check. Cold: check. Inability to get back to sleep: check. Many things to do today: check.
So, this means I am going to be out in the world, shambling around, moaning and groaning and generally looking and feeling like death warmed over.
All of which is to say, to those of you who are convinced of the imminence of the zombie apocalypse, please don’t shoot me in the head unless I actually try to bite you. I’d hate to be the first casualty in the war against zombies because I can’t sleep—although it might be faster than being a casualty of the lack of sleep itself.
On that note, I am going back to bed.