Decaffienate Me

My beautiful Darjeeling is to blame for this one. Note the time. Almost 1:00 and still wide awake. WIDE. Brimming with awakeness. Awakeitude. Awakeiny. Hmmm. Spell checker doesn't seem to like any of those.

I did just write my first Book Review for my new job. I guess that's good, though my copy editor isn't awake to tell me if it makes any sense. I edited it already. A lot. I took out 1/6 of it after I finished writing because I am too wordy. Much, much too wordy. He will undoubtedly take out more words and tell me if it reads like I was on speed.

I had two pots while I closed out season one of Dexter on Netflix on demand. I had already seen it, of course, but it really gets you going in those last three episodes. I remember watching it the first time through and thinking "They can't possibly wrap this up in time!" And yet, with mastery and a beautiful precision they did. And they have done it twice more since. Although I can admit that sometimes I wish one of the best-written shows on television wasn't about a serial killer. It makes me feel unnecessarily desensitized. Though I can also appreciate that using a psychopath as an interpreter of our human experience is brilliant. And a psychopath can't exactly be an ordinary, fun-loving surfer. He has to be, well, a psychopath.

But I digress. The point of this particular entry was to try and come down, to deflate the balloon of my alertness and sink into repose for the evening. Now I can't stop thinking about serial killers. Which isn't great seeing as how SPF is out of town until Friday night. Late. And so I sit here, typing typing typing. Perhaps a bath? Or some wine? But I have a rule to never drink alone and I'm certainly not going to go through a whole bottle in the next two days, so I may as well skip that. If I weren't out of rum I'd make a rum and coke. Though that is more caffeine. A conundrum indeed.

This isn't really a problem, actually. I had to get that article done and it would have either been tonight or tomorrow morning. Now I can sleep in as long as I like. As long as I need, without that nagging sensation that I have something to complete that I haven't done. Though there are plenty of other items on my to do list, this one was bothering me the most. The others are under control. This one I hadn't even started until today. And now the second draft is off to my copy editor. One would think that the relief of having accomplished something major off of the list would help me to move into unconsciousness. But no.

Cest la vie. I have to leave anyway. My shoulders are cramping.

Blather Blather

I pulled "Write" out of the wheel of punishment just now, but I am seriously not in the mood to write. Which is a shame, because I have one chapter introduction to rewrite, one to write from scratch, a book review due, and other articles that I would like to get started in case one particular editor ever decides to respond to my emails. Ever. Even though he said he wanted the articles.

But no matter how I try, I can't focus on any of those things, so I am taking this blog as an opportunity to fulfill my obligation to the wheel of punishment and then I am going to go back to the bowl and pull something out.

Of course, the wheel itself might be mad at me. Yesterday I pulled three tasks but only completed two because I went down to the Community College to shadow my supervisor in a class that she teaches. Which was awesome fun and I'm glad I went. But it took me a really long time to get home because the rain started up again, and I stayed about an hour longer than I intended to at the CC in the first place, so I didn't fold the laundry like I should have. Don't worry, it is only a load of towels, so there is no worry with wrinkles. So I guess I should fold them now. Maybe then I will be freed up to write. I really should. I make almost as much money from writing as I do from teaching, on a good month. On a really good month, I would make almost double . . .