It's barely 11 p.m. and I am tired. Ready to go to bed and crash tired. OK, maybe that's because I was up at an ungodly early hour from me and at work by about 9 a.m., when I normally don't go to work until 2 p.m.
My body is a bit out of wack. I tried going to bed early last night. My mind knew I had to be up early today. But my body was having none of it?
Body: Hey, what's this going to bed at midnight stuff? We never go to bed at midnight. Sure, lie down if you want to but we aren't sleepy.
(an hour later)
Body: Yep, it's 1 a.m, but still not tired. Don't tell us you have to be up in 7 hours. It's not bedtime yet. Bedtime is later. Much later
(another hour later)
Body: Neener, neener, neener, we're not tired. It's the shank of the evening. It's time to be doing something. Just to show you, see us toss, see us turn. Fluff the pillows, flip the TV channels. See, there is stuff to do. This is not sleep time asshole, so you might as well get up.
(2 hours later)
Ah, now this is more like it. Now maybe we will go to sleep. Maybe. We aren't convinced we are tired yet, but hey, give it a short.
When the alarm went off at 8 a.m. it felt like I had just closed my eyes. God I hate that. But fortunately it was a beautiful morning and I was up and going before my body could convince my head that it wasn't quite awake yet.
The reason for the early shift was so I could attend a dinner reception for my alma mater. They do these alumni gatherings once a year to try to tap into all the money from my home state in the Pacific Northwest that has fled to sunnier and warmer Southern California. Apparently, the alumni association hasn't realized that just because I have a Palm Springs address doesn't mean I have money to give them. Well, I gave them a few buck to have dinner and drinks and hang out with some people from my home state for a few hours.
My friend M went with me and we had fun, or she said she did, and I know I did. I sat next to a professor who was one of the guest speakers. He teaches creative writing. I resisted the urge to mention that I have a blog. I'm not sure this counts as creative writing. I'm not even sure it qualifies as writing.
Bad typing maybe.
It's like that old question/joke: Would an infinite number of monkeys typing at random eventually produce the entire works of Shakespeare?
I don't know, but this monkey manages to string a few word together from time to time.
Well, enough monkeying around for now. Tomorrow another sunny spring day is forecast for the Coachella Valley. And if my body is as tired as it thinks it is, I may even be able to fall asleep early enough to get out and play a little before work tomorrow.Blogging