Getting Older Means . . .

drunksomnia.

Now, JordanBaker is far more well-versed in this phenomenon, but I've had a run of bad sleeps, so I get to wax rhapsodic for a bit now, too. I'd like to state for the record that alcohol used to just put me to sleep before the past year. I hate aging.

After a staff retreat today (mmmmm, 6 hours of extra work mingling) I met my neighbors for a beer or two. Because one of our party retains the alcoholic traditions of his alma mater, he's encouraged a tradition of jaeger bombs on Friday (hilarious instructions on how to make these here). These dastardly drinks are both deceptively refreshing and rather delicious. So we have a few beers, the bomb, and then we all split and go our separate ways. I'm spent after the aforementioned mingling, so I dodge our other companion and teeter home. I check some email, I read Kavalier and Clay for a while, I go to bed by the very reasonable hour of 10:30 pm. I'm pooped, I didn't sleep well last night (damn yoga), and I have a lot to do tomorrow. Today. Whatever.

Then I'm up like it's 10 am, yet it is only 3. I assume I heard some drunken raucous fracas brouhaha outside and roll over. But it doesn't work. I roll around for about 30 minutes before I sit up and moan, "drunksomnia!" You don't have to be wasted or anything that banal to suffer, it seems. Just consume enough alcohol to make a dent in your tortured soul (hahaha I kid I kid don't call Betty Ford) and then you're up before the birds.

A few things that have rolled through my deeply perplexed mind here in the dark early morn:
1. I really want Ethiopian food. I want Dukem.
2. I have a birthday coming up.
3. Yoga hurts.
4. I'm deeply cheesed off at a friend of mine. More than I have allowed myself to admit (none of you, gentle readers!).
5. My old computer refuses to spit out all of my mp3 files so that I can transfer them to the new shiny laptop. I suspect bitterness on the part of the old laptop. At least the old laptop doesn't have a battery that threatens to burst into flames at any moment. It should be consoled by this. And hand over the damn music, jerkface.
6. I dated a fellow who used to love massaging my calves and feet. Whatever happened to him? Sure it might have been a fetish, but I'm not judging! High heels=need to find fellow with similar interest in maintaining the stems.
7. I need to track down a dry cleaner and a mechanic asap. Preferably in separate establishments.
8. I still haven't put the stupid bookcase together.
9. Is it worth assigning a Middle English text in Middle English or should I just say "to hell with it" and order the modernized version?
10. I can totally hit the farmer's market before all the good produce is gone, or I can try to go back to bed at 6:10 am. Even after coffee and cereal. I think you know where I'm headed, reader mine.