I can't sleep. Perhaps I should say, I can't go back to sleep. I was sleeping. On the couch. Then my husband got chatty and cute and made me laugh. Then, for some reason, my guilt over a dead friend kept me thinking. Back to sleep. My son started coughing and I rushed to his room. He was asleep. Two hours later, my daughter has a bad dream and I'm in her bed, but not sleeping. The boy child awakens and needs help into my bed. Finally, I've given up. I'm on the couch listening to the pet rat rattle around her cage.
Most of this insomnia can be chalked up to anxiety over my preparedness, or lack thereof, for my summer MFA residency. I just finished reading three books for the program, have another to go, plus all of my peer worksheets (20 pages each, 8 altogether), plus another 95 pages of additional reading that my future mentor has tacked on to the worksheet. And, tomorrow is the first day of summer vacation so both kids are home. When exactly am I going to read? Now? Probably.
The first peer paper I read was well-written, a bit rambly but intelligent. However, it was a political diatribe and I just wasn't feeling it. I appreciate the writer's fairness - a Texan who has independent thought! - but his attention to the ins and outs of government spending made me want to skim.
The rat truly is nocturnal. Lots of scuffling. I may need to find my third bed for the night away from all of the racket.