So last night I slept in my own bed for the first time in three weeks. Sunday night I slept on the futon, I was just too wired, stayed up too late, too restless . . . Anyway, last night with a frost warning in effect I put on my fuzzy sheets, grabbed a book and headed to bed, falling asleep by a respectable 1am (given my tardy rising and the lateness of the night before). There’s something about those sheets! I never never never want to get up when I’m in them. The alarm went about 6:30 and I was pretty much awake but oh so comfy and cozy . . . I turned off the clock and rolled back into my dream. I dreamed we were putting on a play I had written, the one that I’ve had rolling around my head for awhile now, the one I’ve got lots of notes on but haven’t sat down to a complete first draft yet. In the dream it was done and we were in production, I’m not sure who the actors were but there were some definite plot twists that I didn’t see coming! Fun stuff! So, I slept in again. And that’s okay. I’m feeling pretty good. I feel like I’m slowly inching my way back to normal routine. I’m coming out of the foggy thought pattern and starting to see a bit more crisply. I’m even writing in my sleep. That’s a good sign.
Drinking: coffee, black (i wonder how many calories i’m cutting just by foregoing the cream?)
Listening To: buddy upstairs puttering about his morning routine after another late night out
Hair: on my radar