Sleepless nights and Michael Jackson gloves

I can't sleep. It is 10:39pm and I tried to go to bed at 9:15 like a good girl because I have to go back to work after my 4-day weekend!

Ugh.

I blame this on my grossly inactive weekend. And by grossly, I mean gross. My roommate and I were sick. Holed up in the house. Quarantined if you will. And I did nothing but eat, sleep, read stupid Francine Rivers books, and watch Gillmore girls. I did make myself get out of the house at least once a day just to say that I had, but one of those outings included walking to McDonald's to buy french fries, coming back to make cookies, and then eating my weight in them. Gross.

So now I'm sitting here tap tap tapping away in my Michael Jackson gloves (the white gloves I sleep in because I have to put on an extra-moisturizing hand lotion and let it sink in all night by wearing gloves to sleep because it is so stupidly dry here). Why am I still wearing my gloves to type in, you ask? Great question. Because I didn't want to take them off and ruin 2 good hours of soaking my hands have already gotten by washing my hands so I can type. I mean, Roxy (my computer) has been through a lot (not with me, but with someone else. she's refurbished...she get's around), but I don't think she deserves to be smeared by lots and lots of moisturizing hand lotion. She doesn't seem to be having any problems with the dry air. Although, the gloves are making it a little bit tricky to type. I actually consider it a small miracle I'm doing as well as I am. I think I can attribute it to the holes in the ends of both of the gloves' middle fingers. They get around too....

Anyway. I was lying in bed trying to fall asleep and failing so I was entertaining myself with coming up with new blog posts. Probably because I got up to go to the bathroom earlier, told my roommate I couldn't sleep, and she suggested I should read some boring literature. And she said it in a British accent. Which made it even better. And I guess the idea stuck so I decided to write some literature of my own. Wait, can you call a blog literature? (BTW I did take off a glove to go to the bathroom. Although, I only minimally washed my hand afterward. Is that gross? Sorry Roxy....)

And now I don't know what to write about. I was going to write about Red Light tickets. But I fear it's a little late for that. I think I've pretty much used up all of my literary space talking about sleepless nights and Michael Jackson gloves. So maybe I'll end here. There was really no point to this blog. Other than to entertain me while I couldn't sleep. So I suppose I'll trudge back up my stairs, hit the bathroom again (can't sleep on a full bladder....), and attempt to sleep again. It is 10:55pm. I have wasted 16 whole minutes. The bathroom and another minimal hand wash might take one more. That's almost 20 minutes. And the longer I (10:56) continue to ramble, the more time I'll take up and inevitably the more tired I will become, right? At least I will be able to stop running blog post ideas through my head. I'll probably go back to trying to form sentences in Spanish in my head. Which is how I entertained myself the other night when I couldn't go to sleep. And I wonder why I've been having weird dreams lately. (10:57)

Thanks to a quick edit it is now exactly 11pm. I like nice round numbers. For the Win.