Fighting for My Right… to Sleep

Oh, there is far too much “awake” in my life, right now. It could be the change in the weather–it’s a little too hot for sleep, and a little too cool for air-conditioning, right now. In all honesty, a little air conditioning–if it were warm enough–might kill off some of the allergies that keep me from breathing. And I’m actually getting fairly enthusiastic about my revision, again. (I’m filling in the nice-to-have scenes.)

I’m beginning to suspect the cat might have a hand in it.

The cat spent last night on the Catio, after knocking some things off shelves and waking me up.

And, one of these days, there will have to be a B-A-T-H.

I have some anti-allergy gel that’s supposed to keep him from dandering and me from sneezing. I think it works pretty well, when I keep on top of it.

I’m not really one of those people who always needs more sleep, but more than three or four hours in a night might be nice. And it would be nice if they were arranged in a more convenient pattern, too.

I’m getting that Do I try to sleep for a few more minutes or do I give up and get up? timing.

So, I’m Going To Drown…

I went ahead and bought a neti pot. It’s one of those maybe it’ll help ideas that I’ve been toying with on and off for a while. On the one hand, it’s a really cool idea. In one nostril, out the other, and all kinds of pollens and allergens down the drain. It probably can’t hurt, and it might even help. The people who like it really do like it. The people who don’t already drowned, so they don’t get a vote.

The thin, dry air at the writers’ conference is probably what pushed me over the final bump, along with the idea of some recent studies that correlate antihistamines with Alzheimer’s disease. (And actually, this does make since to me, since Alzheimer’s appears about twice as often in women, and guess what one of the ingredients in Midol is, so goodbye, little pink pills.)

I had a friend… well, okay, he was maybe more of a two-legged house pet… or… class mascot or something… Uhm… well, I digress.

Once upon a time, I knew a boy who was able to insert the ink-tube from a ball point pen into his nose all the way up to the nib, so he’d look pretty much like he’d shoved the whole pen into his nose.

That’s really pretty much everything I remember about him.

Pretty sure Neti Pots can’t get lost in my sinus cavity.

**Crosses fingers**

I am pulling apart the recently finished, pared down, and still necessary scenes from my last butcher job, and adding them to the scenes that I found entirely missing.

I’m not sure what I have left, but it looks as though my word count will come out sane, at this point.