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.