can't sleep.

My body obviously resents me working nights and is choosing revenge precisely now, when the house is empty and I have eight whole hours of potential rest, alone with my exhausted self.

but no.

Sleep is a naughty child with tangled hair who will run through the social crowd of my weekend with her screaming absence, popping all our conversation bubbles and smearing discontented pink gum on ruined hopes of fun.

oh dear.

The funny thing is, I may miss these quiet moments with myself in the very near future. It's just right now, these moments seem malicious, determined to rob me of my glorious time off with Josh --

I imagine every moment awake now ticking off an equally long and precious moment with him on the sun-drenched road to Calgary...

(yes, I am delusional, in both my hopes and my fears.)

sigh. poor, confused body.
poor, frantic mind.
poor, determined heart.