Go To Sleep, Little Baby

I wake up tired and spend all day hoping for a nap. Then I get into bed at bedtime and I can't sleep.

Sunrise was at 5:51 a.m.

After this, I dozed on the couch until 5 a.m. or so when I woke for no apparent reason. I quickly fell back to sleep but was up again at 8, at which point I planned to relocate to the bedroom for some more sleep. Then Jesse wanted me to look at some pictures and then I got distracted with who knows what else and here we are: no additional sleep, blogging and nearly time to get the day off the ground.

Today's activities include a trip to Wegmans; Jesse's company picnic at a local park, visible bruises and all; dinner at The Ale House followed by The Horse Flies for music at Taughannock Park. We aren't familiar with the band but the Ithaca Journal describes the music as, "neo-primitive fiddle music." It should be great!


image via The Horse Flies

What Time Does the Sun Rise in July?

Its 3:44 a.m. and I'm still awake. I can only play so much websudoku and listen to so many This American Life shows before the sun comes up and Jesse stirs and wonders how long ago the fresh whole wheat chocolate chip cookies came out of the oven because they're still warm and I've finally fallen asleep on the kitchen floor with a single sheet and a small pile of kitchen towels.

I Can Absolutely Empathize with Dan Savage

Since I was still putzing around at 3:43 am.

[At what point] ...do you say, “Fuck it, I’m not going to lay here wide awake anymore,” and get up and go for a bike ride or go buy some crack or go blow your brains out or something? The freakin’ sun is coming up. Fuck it, I’m going to read the NYT and then write a very special sleep-deprived episode of “Savage Love.” Victrola opens at 5:30, right?

Sorry, Dan. Its the worst, huh?


via Slog

Seriously, What am I Doing?

Its passed midnight; I am exhausted after a good but busy day; I just wrote the longest, ramblingest, disjointedest freaking email to my besty, Tovah; I'm sitting on the carpet crying and blogging and my teeny, tiny laptop is burning my paws. Sheesh.

Please, Train Conductor, Quiet Down!

Dear Train Conductor traveling through the Endicott, NY area in the middle of the night,

Although I have no particular affectations for trains, I do really like the chugga-chugga chugga-chugga sound that trains make. I asked for and received a white noise machine as a gift several years ago and, instead of choosing the sound of the ocean or the rain forest or whatever, I chose the chugga-chugga chugga-chugga train sound. Unusual, I know, but it was pretty soothing and I liked it. Now, when I hear a train, I often joke that it must be bedtime.

I DO NOT like trains when, at 4:05 a.m., you're wildly blowing your horn for 6 or 8 or alot of minutes. Frequently, I wake with a start and can only ASSUME the following scenario: some capricious soul has chosen the speeding train as a means of suiciding and you're trying desperately to warn or scare this person. You're hoping they've only accidentally happened upon the train tracks and have no self-destructive plot in mind.

THIS scenario is absolutely appropriate for wildly sounding your horn and inadvertently waking me at 4:13 a.m. But I am a habitual obituary reader and actually have an affinity to particularly morbid news and stories and would know of a rash of suicides in the area of your disruptive horn-blowing warnings, if such was the case.

Since this is, in fact, NOT the case (the warning of the kamikaze mortal, and so on and so forth), HUSH UP ALREADY! You're startling me and then I can't sleep (and am writing you this letter at 5:13 a.m.)

Thanks,
Lisa.


image via Paris Parfait