Ever have one of those days where every little thing starts to drive you nuts and builds up until you’d swear you were going to lose it?
Yeah, that was me yesterday.
It started out fine, really. In fact, it was a great day. But apparently when the sun goes down, psycho Murphy rears her head.
I went out for supper with the boyfriend and one of his roommates. We ended up walking downtown to a little Mexican restaurant and eating on the patio. Things were a little backwards–the waitress forgot our starters, so we got antojitos as we were finishing our meals–but the food was really good and we had a blast. By the time we’d finished all our food, all the antojitos (Matt–the roommate–and I ate most of them, since they had olives and Duncan wouldn’t eat them), dessert, and our drinks, we were too stuffed to think about walking home. Luckily, one of the other roommates came and got us.
I headed downstairs when we got home since I needed to write my 750 words for the day, telling the boyfriend he could feel free to come distract me. Well, he came downstairs, but rather than distract me, he flopped onto the couch and pretty much fell asleep. I finally had to get his attention.
This is where things fade to black. 😉 So, moving right along! He was tired, in bed and ready to fall asleep. I wasn’t, and to be honest, I didn’t think he was going to decide to stay down here with me. Didn’t mind one bit, but didn’t expect it, so my sleep schedule was drastically different from his.
Not only did I stay up til four, unable to feel sleepy, when I finally did decide to go attempt sleep, I found the boyfriend had woken up. He was standing at the doorway looking at me. I hadn’t woken him, but I felt bad anyways. Once I got to bed, though, I couldn’t get to sleep because no matter how I tried to sleep, I wasn’t comfortable. Either my hands/arms went numb and then painful, or I would try to get comfortable and I’d feel pain when I moved, or I just wasn’t comfortable because my bed is small and my arm would hang off the side of the bed.
It was maddening. I’m sure that if the boyfriend ever kind of woke up, he wondered why in the hell I was so fidgety when normally, with him, I fall asleep and don’t move. As it was, I was so frustrated that I was near tears. I just wanted to sleep! I almost felt like I should explain to the boyfriend that it wasn’t me, it was my symptoms (yet another reason I should get checked for fibro, I know). But I hate that they play such a huge role.
Eventually I fell asleep, because his alarm going off for work woke me up. And I’m pretty sure I was out of it again before he’d even left. But apparently I turned off my alarm and slept til 1. *headdesk*
So much for fixing my sleep schedule. I woke up feeling cranky, pouty, and not exactly rested.
Ever felt like you were losing your mind, even though you knew there was a reason for your behaviour?