After struggling with crappy sleep for more than a year I’ve finally decided to brand myself as someone who no longer sleeps. I know they say that practice makes perfect and if I started practicing now, I could probably play Rhapsody in Blue on the clarinet in about a decade or so. I also know that I could trade in all of my shoes for skates, yet I will NEVER skate as well as Dorothy Hamill. I will die having never done a back flip. It’s time to just roll with every single punch and So Be It. I no longer sleep.
(My mother just got a CPAP machine and she’s sleeping like a baby (one of the babies who sleep) for the first time in years and Confession: I’m a wee bit jealous.)
At 1:58 in the morning, I found myself in the bathroom looking in the mirror and clicking my teeth to the Soul Asylum songs in my head. Less than ten minutes ago, I accidentally hit myself in the face with a seven pound bag of apples, and that bag of apples had no business being above hip level because I was simply trying to move them from one countertop to another.
Do you remember my new doctor? The one I love? (I really don’t expect you to remember anything you read over here.) I saw her yesterday, and: 1. She gave me exercises for my shoulders. 2. She told me to get regular massages. 3. She recommended physical therapy for my shoulders and neck. 4. She recommended Botox injections to deaden my shoulder muscles. 5. She doubled my Celexa in an attempt to lessen my shoulder tension. 6. She noted my “profoundly low” B12 level and will be giving me a shot tomorrow. (My mother has been getting B12 shots for a dozen years. She’s also a knitter and has very short hair.)