I don't know how I am still awake. I've been awake since 8:40 AM Friday. Right now, it is 2:15 AM Sunday. My brain just keeps churning, and I haven't experienced my usual ache between the shoulder blades that comes when I'm tired.
Friday I went back to working at an estate sale. I hadn't left my apartment since Monday (had been holed up working on my dissertation for four days), and was desperate for human contact. Grabbed basic groceries on way back home from work and then went to a movie with Susan and her husband. Home after midnight and tried to wind down by making jewelry. At three AM I took a shower and tried to sleep. I lay down and thought about Daddy and Granddaddy (and something mean I had done to someone thirteen years ago), and cried. I got up, I checked my email or something, tried to relax. Took Tylenol for a burgeoning headache. Lay down again, tried mentally counting backwards and chanting "sleep" to myself, which frequently works when I'm getting stuck trying to doze off--I am not one of those people who can just sleep on command. Finally got back up at 5 and took a sleeping pill. Still lay awake, staring off into space and watching the light grow between the blinds. Anita called me to make sure I was awake at 7:15.
The market was windy, and slow (Anita came in to help me set up and then went back home to nap), but the sales have not been bad thus far this year--a better start than any of the past three years, I'd say. It was sunny, and I didn't mind at all getting a little burnt on my face and neck because I've been mewed up for so long indoors and desperately needed the solar radiation. I took notes on a book about the Russian Orthodox cult of the saints (yes, relevant to my dissertation topic...the formal proposal I turned in on Thursday to my advisor: she wrote me that she liked it, and believed I had found a good perspective, which was so encouraging after her earlier voicing doubts about the workability of biography) and waited for customers to choose baubles and fork over their paper and plastic. Then I went to Michaels to use my weekly 40% off coupon on one item (I've got a list of more expensive supplies that I'm gradually collecting, thanks to this once-weekly or bi-weekly shopping) and then home to chill, thinking I'd try to stay awake until a reasonable bedtime, since the time change, and my vampire-like study habits, and this bizarre insomnia, have my sleep schedule more cockeyed than it's ever been. And I'm still awake eleven hours later. It's hard to type, and this post is probably not making much sense.
Somehow I don't think I'm going to make it to church in the morning. Mr. B., who has been going to the eleven o'clock service every Sunday with me lately, called Saturday afternoon to say that he probably wasn't going to make it this week. My physical shutdown is overdue. Maybe I'll sleep for 16 hours straight, like I did Thursday afternoon and night. It could be I'm just establishing my own weird rest/work rhythm: sleep for 16 hours, awake for 48. Or maybe I'm about to get KOed by fatigue--what the illness didn't two in two weeks, the weariness will.