Typical Me

WooHoo. It's 8pm, and these days, I can count that as a late night. Seriously, I have gone from nosleeptricia to sleepallthetimetricia. If I didn't know better, I'd guess I was pregnant. And yes, i know better.

Whereas my prior stages of grief have resulted in almost compulsive non-stop activity, my current state has me entirely apathetic. And because I am so good at irony, I have more to do now than I have in eight months...yes, it's rapidly approaching nine. UNFREAKINBELIEVABLE!

Somehow, I am still managing to get to work, take care of Iain, , and occasionally do the dishes. But what about packing up my whole house? And doing schoolwork? And paying bills? Yuck. I think I'll just go to sleep. I wake up with the best of intentions, but by the time 7 o'clock rolls around, all I want to do is crawl into bed. My house is in a constant borderline state. One more 1/2 empty juice cup and it would go from mess to filth. So not me.

I know it's bad because I don't even feel like going out or seeing friends. Troublesome? A bit. But normal, I think. Call it the depression stage, and call me typical. Fortunately, I'm still able to muster up the energy to force the issue. And when i do, I always have a good time.

Now, if you are a friend of mine, don't fret. The lovely part about being me is that a few days feel like a lifetime. So really, this bedtime at seven routine is just a few days old. I'm sure by Friday I'll be back to not being able to sleep and having bathroom floors you could eat off of.

Here's hoping for more productive grief.