Nightly mishaps...

I really need one more cup of coffee before I start writing this and I will take care of that shortly. It ought to get me in the proper mood to turn out some good prose. I'm still a bit struck by sleep and I'm not sure if I should have gotten up already. I thought I was awake when I opened my eyes, but it may have been a miscalculation. 

Any moment now the caffeine is going to do its job and jolt my brain into alertness and I will be right as rain. I will be better than that, I will be great. Not that I will have delusions of grandeur, I won't be as bad as all that. I will just feel terrific because I always do when I get a caffeine high.

If I ever got stranded on a deserted island, I would have to have coffee and cigarettes with me. On the other hand, it might be a chance to get over my addictions for good. I would have to live on the fruits of the land and the sea and I would hope to get stranded on a bountiful island. God only knows how healthy I'd get. 

I think the caffeine I've consumed in the meantime has done its job. I've sat here and had a huge fantasy about that deserted island. I feel wide awake and very alert. All the gears in my head are working faultlessly. If I ever were to become a writer of literature, I would have to do all my work very early in the morning when everybody else was still asleep. I'd have to drink a lot of coffee and smoke lots of cigarettes and take advantage of my most productive hours.

Those certainly aren't during the day when I don't get much of anything done. Well yes, with a little bit of luck I get my chores done, but that's not very imaginative. Anybody can do that.

Well, so much for that temporary high of the coffee. It didn't last and I've come back down to earth. Now I'm just an ordinary mortal like everybody else. My head's readjusted itself again and I'm no longer existing in higher spheres. It was too much of a good thing anyway and this state of being is much more realistic. Being high on caffeine is a very artificial way to get in touch with your imagination. It's a lot of hot air that you spout.

I'm glad that I'm myself again because I didn't know what to do with myself the way I was. I think I was running a little bit rampant, especially if you could have seen where those fantasies about the deserted island took me. I had an earthquake and a tsunami all built in and a high hill to flee to. And a broken down and sodden encampment on the beach. 

I'm drinking my second tall glass of cold lemonade. That's better than drinking more coffee. I do have to keep an eye on that and not let myself be seduced by the immediate effects of the caffeine. It has just as much allure as alcohol does. I get a kick out of it. 

I finally got around to changing the sheets on my bed last night before I went to sleep. I never did get around to that this weekend. I put on clean pajamas and was asleep five minutes after I laid down. Gandhi slept on my stomach and was still there when I woke up. She always thinks my stomach is the best place to lie down on because it's like a cushion. She kneads it like it's a ball of dough. Luckily, she doesn't use her nails. She's a kind and considerate cat. 

I will think about going back to bed for awhile. This morning the Exfactor is going to be here to do the groceries, but I have lots of time before he gets here. In the afternoon I have an appointment with my psychiatrist and after that one with my SPN. I'll have to go to the pharmacy after that and that will take care of my afternoon. It's supposed to be 17C today (62F) and the sun is going to shine. I may not have to wear my scarf. It will be the first time. 

Have a good day, all of you. 

Ciao,

Nora