In the past few days I have slept. I have slept so much that I have restored the energy I wasted ("wwaaaassssted..." she hissed for emphasis) on the Super-Secret-Oh-Yeah-You-Are-Dead-Sucker Project. I slept so much I was able to make a list of things to do. Before that, yes, I was too wiped out to even make a list. And this list has things on it like, "Get mail out of mailbox." Which, by the way, Cigna Insurance, you do SO owe me 60% of $1,200, and I will prove it. Out-of-network pharmacy my lumpy ass.
Anyway, I wouldn't have thought I needed any more sleep, but it seems that is how I have spent the late afternoon and evening. Perhaps I was plunged into a depression by the way my iPod is cycling through every song I own, spending 1 second on each before shuffling to the next one. Maybe I was crushed by the news the Betaseron for the last three months really will cost me $400 a month. It could be the way the dog is staring out the window waiting for Gary to return from his training in Chicago and then staring at me as if to say, "You won't even wipe my butt when I poop, woman! I am going to report you to the authorities."
Conceivably, I could be sleeping so hard because I can. I can sleep without someone waking me up to say, "If you are going to snore like that / twitch your foot like that / cough like that / lie there and stare at the ceiling like that then maybe you should just sleep in the other room."
And as it turns out, I was sleeping so hard I almost missed his nightly call because I anwered the can of Diet-Rite White Grape Soda when it rang. I pressed the can to my face and yelled, "Hello? HelLO?" until I woke up and hit the speaker phone button.
Since he was on the speaker, I may have fallen back to sleep during the call. That is why I'm a little unsure if there is really a hotel in Chicago that lets dogs stay in the rooms as long as they use the back entrance. A hotel right next to a big theater and the Chicago Sun Times. One where they have cigars and harmonicas in the mini-bar. Oh, and Yoga and Blues CDs. In the mini-bar. Along with a wallet containing $45. Don't ask me. I'm going back to sleep.