As much as I like the hump-day-off of this week, today it's Monday again, at least to my sleep deprived brain. I haven't gotten an uninterrupted night's sleep since AWP (Feb/March, for those non writers out there) (those who were at AWP with me are laughing hysterically at this, knowing how little sleep I ended up getting). On a good night, Ray wakes me up two or three times. On a bad night, it's once or twice an hour. On a bad night with constant fireworks in the neighborhood, it's one giant sleepless misery-fest. Sometimes I wonder if I would be a totally different person if I could sleep. Needless to say, I'm not very sympathetic when people complain to me about being tired.
Today's day 2 of Sylvia Plath in Modern American Po. I always found her so inspiring because she was a real go-getter. My friend and I used to measure our own accomplishments against what Sylvia had done at our age. I'm not sure when I stopped doing that, but it's pointless now that I'm 33. I bet she didn't get much sleep either.
Woohoo Clay Matthews!
Woohoo Jeannine Hall Gailey!