Crazy Early

Because that's what it is, crazy early.

Dr. A assures me that my increased sleepiness is due to the new mix of meds and that eventually, my body will get used to it.

And that I won't fall asleep in the Big Chair at 6 p.m., go to bed at 8 p.m. and wake up at 2 a.m.

Not that I mind it. I get a little more done. I just wonder how I'll feel around 5 p.m., when I'm supposed to be in Dr. A's office.

It's known that people who are depressed often sleep long hours. But I don't think this is depression sleep, because when I wake up, I find myself cocooned in my comforter, smiling at the nearest cat and saying, "This is soooo niiiiice." I've done depression sleeping before and what I said then when I woke up was, "Dammit, I'm still alive." I think there's a big difference between the two.

This weekend, I stepped out of the house only long enough to pay Diego and give the outside cats some food. I've always been a big fan of being inside. Since I passed the age of eleven, I've never understood what people like about any non-Caribbean beach. Inside is good.

I have time and energy this morning to get a few crucial things done around the house.

This is so nice.