I love sleeping. I really love sleeping. Always have. I’ve had friendships broken up because the other person did not understand about me and sleep.
(I was in sleep-away grad school, and needed to use someone’s computer for an assignment that was due. All of the computers in the lab were taken. He said he had to finish something, and I could use it after. A few hours later, I got tired of waiting, literally [mind you, I was 6 months preggo] and went to bed. He knocked on my door at 2 am and woke me up. We were no longer friends after that…)
I must, must, must get enough sleep, or you can count on my not being someone you want to be around the next day. And if I go through a couple of nights not getting adequate sleep, I can count on becoming ill very quickly.
So you know what’s coming, right? Yep. My big plan about going to bed earlier is the culprit, I think, but I have been having such a hard time falling asleep for the past week. Some could be due to stress, but something wonky is going on. And I don’t like it. Not one bit.
I’ll give it another week or so before I get really panicked (and cranky and agitated), but this is not me, this is not right, and I don’t know how to get it back to the lovely usual.