Transplanted Life
Friday, February 06, 2004
 
I hate insomnia
It's just one of those I can't get to sleep nights/early mornings. And, man, I should be able to - as part of Kate's Oscar kick, she and Jen and I went to see Cold Mountain tonight. Anthony Minghella has a knack for making a 2.5 hour movie seem to last seven, but by the time I got on the train, got home, and brushed my teeth, I'd gotten some kind of second wind. So I've been tossing and turning; I tried watching some TV but that's not doing it. I finished my book, but my choice of reading material was bad. Not that The Salmon Of Doubt is a bad book in any way, shape, or form, but it's Douglas Adams's last writings, including the start of what is in its present form the start of the third Dirk Gently novel but apparently would have become the sixth Hitch-Hiker novel. And Adams is one of those writers whose every word and phrase demand attention, so it winds up actually making you more alert. And, of course, afterward comes the horribly feeling that there's no more. Barring the sudden location of a copy of The Meaning Of Liff (did it ever reach this side of the Atlantic), I've read all Douglas Adams's books.

The only reason I can think of that I'm still awake is that my stomach is still somewhat upset. It's been better since I left work, but before then, I felt queasy all day. There was this awful smell causing it which made me want to gag, I was apparently the only one who could smell it. Which is not a good thing for someone whose mind and body are of questionable unity. Six months ago, I would have thought there was something wrong with my brain, and I still figure that might be a possibility, but it seems less likely. It does make me wonder if I might be imagining things, or if some sort of paranoia might be justified (could everyone at BioSoft know what's going on and be trying to drive the girl with the mind-transfer crazy?). But, man, as soon as five o'clock came, I was out the door.

That helped immensely; I just hope the smell's gone tomorrow. If it isn't, I stop complaining to the people at work and take it up with the building manager, no matter if no-one else can smell it.

-Michelle
Comments: Post a Comment

Powered by Blogger

Note: This blog is a work of fantasy; all characters are either ficticious or used ficticiously. The author may be contacted at JaySeaver@comcast.net