Where for art thou, Sandman?

I have now been up for almost a full 36 hours. I was able to sneak in a 50 minute nap at one point. The bags under my eyes are deep and grey and when I look in the mirror, I see a sunken gauntness closely resembling Death warmed over. It does happen to be October, so I might be able to get away with this look for a few more weeks, but I'd really rather not.

I need my Sandman (can I request a Sandwoman?). Ah, yes, the ramblings of delirium. I shall leave this up even after I've had enough sleep and I read it over again realizing I was tapping out drivel on the edge of the cliff of dream deprivation.

I'm so tired I can't tell if that last sentence sounds poetic or pathetic. I'm going to bet on pathetic because I seriously doubt that I can be poetic with so little mind left. And I have come to the resounding conclusion that dreaming is a bodily necessity. Okay, not exactly. I might look like Death, but I'm nowhere near it. I'm well fed, watered and can still stand up straight, albeit with a slight lilt that portends a wont of drunkenness.

Portends? Wont? Where do I get these words of old? Of that, I am not certain. What I am certain of, however is that my soul is elder to by body. My soul feels as though it hath lived a thousand years and the desire to follow the path of love, hope and prosperity is strong in her. Which is why, I believe, I have followed my true self finally and fallen in love with the one who has stolen my heart from me. She walks on the path of hope and I walk beside her on the path of prosperity. Together we create the path of love.

Damn, I do ramble. I shall get a laugh out of this in a day or three. And now I've gone all mushy on top of it!

Time to go bathe Elektra and then read to the kids (The Hobbit is a little over half way done now). Then, in half an hour, I will shower, dry, and take some melatonin.

I have gotten to a point of sleep deprivation now, where if I don't take a sleep aid, I will lie awake for hours again.

Here I am Sandwoman, blow your sleep dust in my eyes and take me to dreamworld!

Wake up!

I haven't put a cup of coffee to my lips in almost 8 years. Well, that's not entirely true, I did try a cup once when my son was in the hospital, but that's another story.

This story is about how I am so, so incredibly tired!

Wait, this sounds familiar doesn't it? Didn't I just post about this earlier this week? Let me go back and check...yep, I did.

Oh, well, I'm doing it again. Guess this is just one of those weeks where I will not get the chance to wake up fully.

Ever get so tired that your eyeballs feel like they were just pressure washed with fine particles of (microscopic, actually) sand? I am so there.

Just give me a shake. Or maybe pinch me. And if I fall asleep at my desk, you are even welcome to pour some coffee into my probably open and drooling mouth.

The bitterness alone would probably startle me back to consciousness!