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I hate insomnia
I don't like the hamster that spins around and around in the wheel inside my head, either. It's family issues, which I'm not going to go into detail about on a public forum (for those to whom I've talked about this elsewhere, yes, it's new developments about that particular relative).
Oh, and I *finally* started painting my bedroom on Thursday. I had sworn when I moved into this condo last summer that I would have all the interior painting done by the first anniversary of my move-in date, which is the end of this month. And this is the last room. I love the new color (which is called Rhino, of all things, but is a light blue-green tinted gray). The problem is that I obviously can't sleep in my bedroom until I'm finished painting (which will take me three or four days) and give the fumes (even latex paint smells) a couple of days to dissipate. So I'm sleeping on the daybed in my spare bedroom, which, while comfortable, just Isn't My Bed (g).
Oh, and my shoulder is bugging me again. Still. Something. But if I let it stop me, since it's been chronic off and on for the last ten years, I'd never get anything done.
Hence the combination of factors resulting in insomnia.
It's not helping the scribbling any, either. Surely I'll be able to wear myself out enough painting to sleep before I get moved back in. The family issues I'm just going to have to open my hands and let go of. There's nothing I can do from 1000 miles away...
Oh, and I *finally* started painting my bedroom on Thursday. I had sworn when I moved into this condo last summer that I would have all the interior painting done by the first anniversary of my move-in date, which is the end of this month. And this is the last room. I love the new color (which is called Rhino, of all things, but is a light blue-green tinted gray). The problem is that I obviously can't sleep in my bedroom until I'm finished painting (which will take me three or four days) and give the fumes (even latex paint smells) a couple of days to dissipate. So I'm sleeping on the daybed in my spare bedroom, which, while comfortable, just Isn't My Bed (g).
Oh, and my shoulder is bugging me again. Still. Something. But if I let it stop me, since it's been chronic off and on for the last ten years, I'd never get anything done.
Hence the combination of factors resulting in insomnia.
It's not helping the scribbling any, either. Surely I'll be able to wear myself out enough painting to sleep before I get moved back in. The family issues I'm just going to have to open my hands and let go of. There's nothing I can do from 1000 miles away...