Checked the toenails. All in good order. The tiny toe on the right foot looks off-ish, but I'll walk okay.
Checked hair. No silver there yet. Running fingers through it. One or two strands came off. Tough.
Checked moles on left cheek. Looking good. Some people used that as a pick-up line before. Trust me, they'd use anything to get your attention. Lame.
Checked fridge. Stock looks enough to hold for another 3 days. Need more ribena, and probably some cherry tomato. Tomorrow.
Checked wardrobe. What to wear tomorrow? Wait... I'm on leave. I don't need to worry about what to wear.
Checked fingernails. Again. Mimicking Elle Woods "..She's got the six-carat Harry Winston on her bony, unpolished finger" on Vivian the fiance snatcher.
Checked Blackberry messages. Craps. All of them. I don't read work stuff after midnight.
So what do you do if you can't sleep? Exhausted all my books, awaiting the new arrivals in another 2 weeks if I'm lucky. Exhausted all my movies too. I could watch Secret Diary of a Call Girl season 4 again, but I don't like the detached feeling the heroin put on sometimes, you can't be all that human and normal can you? Nothing's good on TV either at this time of night. No one's up and willing to talk to me either right now.
Maybe my biological clock is acting up, giving me one hell of a wake up call. I need sleep, and yet I finished an entire entry about my unslumberous state, and still wide awake. Why is that?
Is that the effect of the half jug of black black hot brew I washed down that's been keeping me wide-eyed and actively tossing and turning and finishing a sentence each and rummaging and fidgeting and finishing another sentence in between and wiggling and kicking air and finishing a whole entry to publish?
God. Maybe the effect is stronger than expected.
Need sleep. Need sleep. Come on pillows. Cooperate!
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