Note the time of this blog. Late. My cell phone will buzz me out of restless sleep in 5.5 hours (give or take). Wonderful. Thanks to the sponsorship of Coca-Cola in the Winter Olympics, I felt inspired to guzzle the fizzy liquid with my dinner (7.5 hours ago). Caffeine is not my friend;I am kicking myself for caving to the media’s masterminded marketing techniques.
3 hours ago I brushed my teeth with my Sonicare toothbrush, washed my face with my faithful three-step Clinique regimen, and popped in “Julie and Julia,” which I Red Boxed (pre-parenthetical point: the mom behind me in line scolding her six-year-old son for standing in front of the automatic doors and blocking an old man’s exit was mumbling about not knowing how to Red Box a movie. How do you not know how to Red Box a movie? I could do it in my sleep….if only I could sleep…)this afternoon on my way out of Cub Foods (a grocery store run that yielded processed foods, semi-“organic” chips, frozen Chicken Kiev, yogurt, eggs, pre-packaged pasta, and an assortment of non-organic fruits).
I settled into bed. Turned off the bedside lamp. And hit play. Within the first couple of scenes, I knew I was going to enjoy the movie. Meryl Streep is a genius. Amy Adams made me smile. Parallels with her character’s life and my own were evident from the get-go. Number one: she had a terrible haircut and I am currently suffering through the growing pains of a horrible one myself. Number two: she blogs and I obviously blog. Number three: she cooks and oh, wait…I don’t cook (remember my grocery purchases?) My last baking attempt failed miserably. Embarrassingly so that I don’t wish to disclose it on a blog that no one reads. Cooking is hit or miss – I prefer to make up random things and I gag handling raw meat. Cross marrying a butcher off my list of potential husband candidates.
Throughout the entire movie I tried to fall asleep. I took my glasses off for fear I would fall asleep and crush them to bits. I flipped my pillow. I propped another pillow behind me. Removed the extra pillow. Put my glasses on. Took my glasses off. Threw off the covers. Pulled the covers over me. Put my head at the foot of the bed. Tried laying sideways. Logged some tummy time. Reverted back to my back. The more I tried to sleep, the more I couldn’t. Bottles of pills filled with magical sleeping spells hidden in medicine cabinets registered in my tired-but-can’t-sleep-even-if-I-wanted-to-mind. Since I don’t handle caffeine well, I can’t imagine how I’d handle sleeping aids – I would like to actually wake up tomorrow (today).
That’s all. Just the semi-lucid thoughts of a caffeinated-sleep-deprived girl afraid to pop pills and too lazy to count sheep.