Sleep (or The Interruption Thereof)

Two nights running now, I've woken at two a.m. Wide awake, and itchy. Everywhere. Inside and out. The roof of my mouth, my eyeballs, inside my throat. I have to disrobe in order to scratch the most maddening spots on my thighs. Random episodes of violent sneezing. 

I'm beginning to look a little owl-eyed, but I'm getting a lot done with all this extra time on my hands.  Finished a novel. Sorted the silverware into spoon/knife/fork bins. For about six months now, we've just dumped the silverware basket from the dishwasher directly into the drawer. Why sort when it's all going to be used at the next meal? (Seventy-five pieces of silverware. Twenty-three different patterns. Where are all my spoons?) Threw away at least a third of the things in my kitchen cabinets. 
I don't do well with antihistimines, so no, I haven't taken any.
On another note:
Specifically the bright yellow note I affixed to the door leading from the main house into the day care, about thirty minutes into nap time today, (after exactly seven episodes of door opening/shutting/waking small people) that reads: STAY OUT. 
Who do they think I wrote the note for? Clearly everyone who reads it feels that they are the exception. 
The ten-month old has just woken, and is sitting in the middle of the floor, singing. The kid's got volume, if nothing else. Good thing she's so darn cute. And she is. I think this is my favorite age–just beginning to crawl, irresistibly clever and funny. Pure humor–they have no jealousy, no self-consciousness, no inhibitions. Pure joie de vivre. And lots of drool.

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2 responses to “Sleep (or The Interruption Thereof)

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