I'm So Tired/Golden Slumbers

Hunh? What time is it? What day is it? On which continent am I located? Is there a Starbucks nearby?

Answers: 1:35 am, Saturday April 18th, Western Europe, Yes.

TeenE and I left Boston at 9 am on Wednesday, which necessitated getting up at 5:45 am. Although I was only in the US for ten days, I had completely adjusted to Eastern Daylight Time and had gone a bit overboard with it, staying up past midnight and sleeping until 9 am towards the end of the trip. The beginning of the trip was filled with tossing and turning produced by excruciating leg pain, so I guess the sleep deprivation and jet lag would catch up with me sooner or later.

Wednesday night, after a 12 hour trip door-to-door, I slept from 2 am to about 10 am. It is much easier to sleep without hot pain shooting up and down your shins and ankles. Thankfully, I did not have a repeat experience of the high altitude-induced shin splints, so was able to walk off the plane and hike the two miles to the immigration desk without having every step produce agonizing pain.

Thursday night I tried to go to sleep on the sofa at 12 midnight, but was unable to turn off the brain. I got up and wandered to the kitchen, found a snack, and tried again. It was 2 am by the time I was finally lulled into dreamland by the number 139 Night Bus chugging past the window at regular intervals. I vaguely remember waking up and seeing it was light out, and registering that Hubster was leaving the flat. "Have a good one!" I managed to mumble perkily from my perch on the sofa.

The next thing I knew I was lying there thinking "It must be around 10 or 11; I should probably get up." I wandered back into the kitchen, where I found to my surprise that it was one o'clock, as in the afternoon. I had been stretched out for almost eleven hours. The last thing I dreamed about before I woke up was that I was on a bus tour to Ipswich. In my dream, I remembered having been on that same tour several years back, but this time, they didn't have my name on the list, so I wasn't supposed to be there. "But I remember it; it's IPSWICH, like the clams." I'm pretty sure it was a tour to Ipswich, England, not Massachusetts (where the clams are from). Maybe that was my port-of-entry back from the dream world.

It surely wasn't Ipswich, but St. John's Wood. I tried in vain to wake TeenE for about a half an hour, then had success. After having lunch and puttering around, I headed out into the drizzly day.

First stop, the pharmacy in the hospital to pick up a prescription. The pharmacist, whom I call by his first name, told me what the price was "after your discount". "What discount would that be?" I asked him. "Don't you work here?" he asked, and was surprised that I didn't. I reminded him that I Volunteered at the hospice, but that they could pay me AND give me the discount if he wanted to... I guess that's what happens when you have your volunteer gig in the same place as your NHS doc, you therapist, and your front-desk reception buddies for whom you bake and with whom you stop by to chat as its on the way to everywhere else you need to go.

Next stop, Starbucks, for my first and only cup of coffee of the day at 2:30 pm. I was happily reading Proust (an assignment from the therapist) and copying down inspiring quotations on the nature of novel-writing when I spotted that ubiquitious medic making a cameo appearance. He came and went with alacrity, having things to do and patients to see.

When the hard rain that was falling drifted back into drizzles, I wandered back to the flat, where I made the Irish beef stew I had planned for dinner, and turned it down to simmer for a few hours. Then, a quick call to a friend in Massachusetts, and was so exhausted that I decided to stretch out for a bit. The bit turned into almost three hours. It was 8:15 and still light out when I got up. Hubster had come home somewhere in the interim, so I knew the stew hadn't burned.

I sent TeenE to bed at around 11pm, but I know she is still up as she just passed me in the hallway at 1:30 am. A quiet evening of TV,Facebook and knitting brings me back full circle to 2
am.

Facebook, you ask? Yes, one of life's pleasant time-wasters. Is it any worse than endless hours of computer solitaire? No, it's probably better, as you can actually connect with real people who are your friends and relatives. What a kick to be "chatting" with Annie, one of the inner circle from Wellesley College days! I also managed to use one of the applications that randomly generates different alter-ego names for you.

For example, my Italian name is : Marietta Ferrari.
I like being named after a fast car!
My Super-hero name is: The Invincible Enigma, or,
as Annie called me, IE Woman!
My Barbie name is: Bad-Taste Barbie. Enough said!
My Drag Queen name is: Leslie Licorice. Lick this!
My Witch name is: Jairia the Not-so-Ugly Witch. cackle cackle!
My Angel name is: Harachel the Angel of Knowledge.

And... for the piece de resistance, my Stripper Name is...
wait for it...
Ginger CherryDeep. SPICY!

It's 2 am. On that note, I'm going to sleep.