Sleep is for Sissies

That's right.
4 hours for me, and feeling...fine, I think...
While drinking coffee at 8pm didn't strike me as a bad idea...
it shouldn't have struck me as a good one.
But it felt pretty great as I blasted the music and scrubbed away at the kitchen,
polished wood, dusted light fixtures, and took out the trash.
It didn't occur to me to be worried at 11pm, as I merrily folded and put away 4 loads of laundry.
Or at midnight or so as I cheerfuly sucked down my husband's--ahem.
But...
when he turned off the light and nestled into me...
my thoughts were going a mile a minute.
and then I started to suspect...
THREE goddamned A.M. was when I finally closed my eyes.
fucking stupid girl.
I couldn't even focus long enough to masturbate, for chrissakes.
(cuz sometimes that calms one's mind, and yeah, I probably should have just taken Mr.'s offer for a lengthier roll in the hay, but jesus, people it was after midnight and I thought I was tired!!!)
oh well.
at least now I know my limits, re: coffee.

so then, as I was lying in a questionable state of wakefulness, somewhere around 7,
I overheard the following conversation between my boys, across the hall:

Max: it's my turn, you can have it in 12 minutes.
Oliver: THIRTEEN! (indignantly, if that's something a 4 year old is capable of)
Max: (something unintelligible cuz I was laughing)
Oliver: fine, 14!

and to think...last night I was confidently telling the husband that they're going to be rocket scientists...
well.
so much for that.
(if you're thinking stupidity runs in my family--you may be right, but shut the fuck up or I'll stop flashing you!!!!!)

I tried watching Uncle Buck, to fall asleep.
I laughed so loud at the "I'll give you a quarter so you can go downtown and have a rat gnaw that thing off your face!" line that I woke up the husband.
cursed man fell back to sleep before I even stopped laughing.
then...this morning, as I was telling him about my night,
I said, "My brain was just on fire--" and made a little noise to simulate nonstop talking.
he shuddered and said, "I would hate to be trapped inside your head!"
heh.
can't say's I blame him...

ok, time to shower.
and did anyone else notice that this post was saturated with husband and kid stuff???
fuck that.
this is MY blog.
oh, and Rachael, one of my post-sleep delusions included me wearing one of your yet-to-be-made "I'd rather be blogging" t-shirts, and casually--and yet somehow like a spokesman on a "paid programming" show--I would extoll the virtues of blogging to all those who inquired as to what in the frigging hell "blogging" is....
wow, that was a long sentence.
oh and I composed a heart-warming email to Bo Bice, full of praise and wisdom...enthusiastically explaining how, precisely, I would fuck him.
but just as a fan mail sorta thing.
not too creepy, is it?
anyway.
focus, Lisa, focus.
shower.
SHOWER!!!