Thursday, January 24, 2008

House

Last night I totally crashed. I was in bed with the lights out before 10:00 p.m. And I slept until 7:45 this morning. Which adds up to what--over nine hours of sleep? And I'm still tired.

And it's not SAD, at least not today, which is freezing cold, but of such a sunniness that I want to throw out all my furniture and replace it with antique Swedish Gustavian stuff like this






and then waft around in a long dress like someone out of Fanny and Alexander.

OK, maybe not.

But did anyone see that episode of House, M.D. where the woman is sleeping 18 hours a day, and it turns out she has African Sleeping Sickness, and no one can figure out how she got it, and it turns out she was having an affair with her husband's jogging partner?

Well, my husband doesn't jog. So it can't be that.

But there doesn't seem to be enough caffeine in the world to pep me up. What will do the trick?

Treadmill? Geritol? Getting my ass out of this chair and away from internet?

5 comments:

  1. that's it! that's it! my husband doesn't jog, either, but he's african american...so that counts, right? i'm so glad that it's all his fault. *grin*

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  2. When you figure it out let me know, I have the same disorder.
    And DON'T tell me I need to exercise.

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  3. It's the damn dark, cold days people! Blah.

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  4. Maybe you're having an affair with your husband's tennis partner?

    I was having problems with this earlier in the week. (Still am, only it's improving slightly.) I'm pushing myself to go on brisk walks with really great music. I also invested in some top notch chocolate, which I am slowly, ever so slowly, nibbling on when I feel the need. I'm also planning my spring gardening in earnest, which seems counterintuitive, but is actually helping me. It's a lot more fun to plan to rip out a boxwood hedge than to actually do it.

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  5. Although I'm all too familiar with retail therapy, I gravitate towards cuddly furniture rather than pretty pieces guaranteed to keep you alert while seated. You know, I'd like tacky bean bag chairs.

    Well, my husband doesn't jog. So it can't be that. Tee hee!

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Gentle Readers:

For the time being, I've turned off comment moderation. Please don't spam; it's not nice.

xxx, Poppy.