Sleepy Time

I am too tired to write tonight. I am too tired to do much of anything. I am addicted to a book and haven't been sleeping much. Isn't it ironic that beating insomnia allowed me to do more of the things I used to love, and in doing them I am staying up way too late and am too tired to do some of the things that I love? I was late for work this morning because of this damn book. It was supposed to help me dream, but instead it is not letting me sleep. I guess I never did grasp the concept of moderation. I am always all in (which explains my collection of ice packs and tensor bandages), unless all in is sleeping, in which case I fold. Wait, would folding be sleeping or not sleeping? I'm so tired I don't even understand my own allegory. I need to quit my job already so I can start reading during the day again. It’s the only way I’ll get any sleep. What do you think Ted Nugent? Would you understand if I quit to read? You can handle your house by yourself eh? Just call me when you need me to lift something for you, I'll leave my phone on. I’ll be on my hammock. Do you say “on the hammock” or “in the hammock?” I think in my hammock’s case it would be in the hammock. It’s like a giant rope blanket with loops. It’s like a spider web burrito. It’s like being a joey in its mother’s pouch. When I get out I feel like a caterpillar molting. I was once diagnosed with Post Hammock Syndrome. It was depressing. I just wanted to be in my hammock’s loving embrace. When I’m lonely it holds me tight and rocks me to sleep. I can almost hear it whispering in my ear, “Sshh, I’m here. Sleep tight little one…” So sleepy......