24 February I just can't seem to get up of a morning this week. On Monday night I, for no good reason, was up 'till 3a (well, I was cropping the show photos) which means that all Tuesday I was sleepy as all get out, yawning and complaining and being a general joy to be around. On Tuesday I went to the dentist because I had thought that a tooth in the back of my head had busted (they're breaking like chalk, let me tell you), and that I might have to have another root canal and another crown, but it turned out that it was only chipped and needed to have the sharp edge filed down, which he did without Novocaine because it was so quick. He said that the real problem is that I just plain don't brush enough, so he gave me a prescription for very high fluoride toothpaste and told me to buy an electric toothbrush and if I used them, I wouldn't have the intense cold-sensitivity that I am currently experiencing. Back at work, between my sleepiness and the drilling, I actually spiked a fever, though honestly that's practically a party trick with me--I get a temperature by stubbing my toe or picking my nose or glancing sharply to the left. It's impressive, though, "I'm so tired that I'm feverish!"
Wasn't I talking about sleeping? O yeah. So, Tuesday night I got home and went to bed before 11p, which is quite terribly early for me, even though whenever I go to bed early I am always screwed and never get extra sleep for one reason or another. But I had faith that it would work, that I'd got to bed at 11p and get up at 8a and have plenty of well-rested pottering time. Ha. In the middle of the night I was awakened by the most intense pain in my teeth, on the side that got drilled. Not that tooth itself, the whole side. It was agonizing. I lay there, hoping that it would go away, but then I realized that I had to get up and take some Aleve, even though I had had some less than 24 hours before, so I turned over and looked at the clock. It was 12.20a. I had barely been to bed. And I slept very lightly all night, between cats and teeth and things, and ended up hitting snooze about a jillion times and barely staggering out of bed at 9.30a or something.
Last night I stayed at work until 10p, which means that I got to take a car home. I realized one day recently that everyone who stays late gets to take a car home, and I, in the four years that I have worked for The Company That Must Not Be Named, have never done so! I guess I thought that because I stayed late by choice rather than because I was forced to, I had no right to a car, but The Raccoon told me that I was crazy, and that whenever I stayed until 10p from now on I should take a car. And I did last night. O, it was palatial, all soft and good-smelling and Town-Car-y and so unlike a taxi that I felt like a different person. Fifteen minutes door-to-door. It was great.
Went to sleep at...I don't remember, but not too late, maybe midnight or 12.30a, but still I could barely chisel myself out of the bed after hitting snooze about forty million times. I can't wait 'till the weekend...
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