Last night at 12:45 I was brusquely shaken out of my semi-sleeping state--wherein I was doing my best not to obsess over something trip-related--by Beast shouting--he must have been shouting since I could hear him through the earplugs--"DOWNSTAIRS!" [I'm redefining "mad dashing" tonight, eh?] Actually, my first thought when I felt his hand on my back was, "Oh, he's having another bad dream and flailing in his sleep." I totally wasn't asleep, was I?
So, I staggered in to find Sparky, who had said he was going to be sleeping in his 'darkroom' behind his bedroom (long story). His fan was on, with the light off, so the switch by his door didn't turn on the light. Eventually, I found him in bed and shook him awake to grab a flashlight and move it.
It was a false alarm for everyone locally and we were back upstairs within half an hour. During our time in the basement, I found a message on my cell phone, which I'd grabbed on the way through the kitchen. The message was trip-related. By the time we got back upstairs, I was already prepping the list of things to think about instead of sleeping. I tried for 45 minutes or so but eventually came downstairs and attempted to sleep on the couch. By 4 I was soundly asleep, or as soundly as one can be on this couch.
Beast woke me up at 7 as he was preparing to leave for work. I managed to made it to work precisely on time. I cataloged, solved an ongoing problem for the 32nd time, cleared my desk off, staffed the Reference area for two-plus hours, and prepped paperwork for the short trip-related meeting at 5.
Then we went to dinner and I started drinking. I've had two cocktails since about 6, and I'm pretty close to non-functional. This goes to show that a) I don't drink much and/or often, and b) I'm way tired.
So. Up to bed. No alarm. I've listed the things that need to get done in the next 40 hours before leaving town, a list that encompasses everything from mowing the lawn to doing laundry to packing. Hopefully, the existence of that list will keep my middle-of-the-night "planning" at bay. The vodka I've had may help with that too, and I know the Benedryl I'm about to take will do the rest.
So good night and good luck. I'll be back before we leave Sunday afternoon, I hope.
fauxtograph: A fauxtograph is a practical joke in which the video setting of a digital camera is used to trick the target into posing for a really long time for what isn't a picture at all. [It also seems to mean something along the lines of cleaning up a photo by digital enhancements to make something/someone look much better than reality.]
I'm wondering how many individual fauxtographs we can get this week from our group of kids. Is it bad that I want to waste battery power and disk space this way?