On Thursday last week, I had a full day at uni and had a presentation to deliver amongst tutes, ward rounds, clinics and visiting patients. It was a full day and I was pretty tired at the end of it. The sort of tired where about the only thing you want to do is come home, collapse in front of the TV or the computer and maybe chat to a few friends on MSN before rolling into bed at about 8pm.
Instead, I headed out to the strip of restaurants in Southbank with their interesting decor that all try to outvie eachother for their "vibe". Their "mabo". At first as I perused the very well priced menu I was planning on a small main and perhaps a fresh juice, maybe even lashing out on a glass of wine, and that I would head home at a decent hour, say 10pm or so for a full and replenishing night's sleep.
What I didn't count on was the exhiliration of being out in the chilly night BY MYSELF and then meeting up with friends. Since one of my online friendship groups imploded a couple of weeks ago, my circle of procrastination and frivolity has shrunk markedly. "Real life" friends are very busy at the moment, and we don't catch up as much as I'd like (ie often lol). So sitting around the redwood bench table I was enjoying myself immensely. I decided I felt like a proper drink and promptly sent off our very efficient and flirtatious waiter to fetch a round of drinks (his efficiency waned significantly throughout the evening which was very vexing considering how much I was enjoying my "refreshments" - but he did keep looking at me and smiling. I am still wondering if I had an errant Monica Lewinsky yoghurt stain somewhere). Throughout the course of dinner I had far too much vodka, and then at the instigation of one of the friends, thought stopping off at one of my favourite early uni day pubs on the way home was a fabulous idea.
By this time it was WELL after 10pm, my original planned home time, and I was happy and languid and liquid, enjoying my night to the hilt. I eventually stumbled home before midnight, stopping briefly to disrobe from my complicated clothing and then collapsing in bed. To be woken about 5 hours (maybe a bit less) later by the howling Monkey.
When I woke up I was completely ataxic and felt very very dizzy. I think if I'd blown into a breath analyser I would not have fallen short of the legal limit, but the effects on my CNS meant that heading to my 8am lecture were interesting to say the least.
Friday was a repeat of Thursday except for the fact that I had the afternoon off so had plans to get home and have a sneaky nap before picking the girls up from childcare. Right up until I got off the bus and got the phonecall to pick the sick Monkey up. So we had the previously mentioned afternoon of ABC kids in front of the fan while I tried to prop myself upright.
Now being as absolutely exhausted as I was, one might suspect that I would have headed to bed nice and early. But somehow I convinced myself that playing computer games was a good idea. Now as mentioned before the games I play are MMORPGs, emphasis on multiplayer and as such I have made a few friends through the game. One friend at least I would consider a very good friend out of the computer and we have had some fantastic chats about shoes and ships and sealing wax. So somehow on Friday night I ended up talking to him until 3amish. I am not sure how, as our conversation skitted off the conventional path around 1am (probably due to my insane tiredness) and then veered into the MAJORLY PISSING ME OFF BUT I CANNOT LOOK AWAY territory shortly thereafter. I was determined not to go to bed angry, and kept attempting to be rational, but at 3am and after not enough sleep irrational may as well be my religion.
The Monkey true to form woke up about 2 hours after I went to bed. Being as Saturday is my morning to sleep in, I got to stay in bed for the next 4 or so hours, but I didn't really sleep, tossing and turning fitfully and not being able to a) relax or b) get comfortable. I was prickly and cactusy all day, not helped by the fact that I was feeling unwell.
It would be assumed then that on Saturday night I would go ot bed early. But I didn't. I ended up on my computer again and at 11pm just as husband was packing up to go to bed, a "new" friend and I were making polite small talk. As you do. The stuff that is really easy to wind down and go to bed. But being me, instead of making polite excuses to go ot bed (of which I had a whole armful pre-prepared) I happened to ask a relatively innocuous but personal question... and got an interesting answer. Which lead to more questions, then more answers, then a philosophical debate, an interesting sidetrack into etymology and a theological discussion, all of which was accompanied by music. Now if you ever want to engage with me when I really should know better then play me some music and ask me about wanky elitist topics. I will be yours until you're done.
At about 1am I happened to notice the time and groaned at the fact that I have absolutely no self control, but somehow the conversation kept going, until at just before 2am we both shut up shop. Now by this stage you could be forgiven to think I would be narcoleptic, but I was actually quite hyped. I LOVE having my brain stroked and I adore meeting people and making new friends. So I crawled into bed, snuggled into LH and hoped that he would be up for relieving me of my excessive hyperactiveness, falling asleep probably around the 3am mark. AGAIN.
On Sunday morning the Monkey woke up just before 5. ie 2 hours sleep. And it was LH's turn to sleep in.
Sunday mornign is but a blur of sitting propped on the couch, watching interminable episodes of Playschool and fetching drinks of water and milk and making snacks for the babies. At about 10am LH surfaced and I took the opportunity to collapse in bed for 2 hours before having to get up and be a responsible adult and play with my divine children who would be even more superlative if they understood the joy of weekend sleep-ins.
Sunday afternoon we took the kids to see Horton Hears a Who (sidebar go see it, fantastic, one of the best children's movies I've seen in a LONG time) then came home, made dinner and did the bedtime routine. Now SURELY someone as supposedly intelligent as myself would have gone to bed early last night? Well ooer. Maybe not. After reading through lecture notes and getitng distracted by friends on MSN and then sucked into bad Sunday night movie it was already 12 o'clock, and once LH and I had finally finished our nightly routine it was well after 1am.
The Monkey woke at 4:30am.
THREE AND A HALF hours of sleep.
I have tutorials all day and since Thursday morning I have had a sum total of 18 hours of broken sleep. This is from a woman who functions optimally on about 10 hours per night. Who if you give her that amount will wake sleepily and cheerfully to start a new day.
I am cranky and prickly and overall exhausted today and am getting a cold because I'm so run down.
Surely at 26 I should be able to weather this better? Or, surely, at this ripe old age I should have learned some self control.
Off to fantasise some more about sleep.