Is it Thursday Yet?

This has been one very long, blurry week.  The pastyface downstairs is playing karaoke guitar and yelling "Woo!" at the parts he likes.  He isn't very good, more of a chord-changing strummer with a plastic pick, which further underscores the personal relationship skills he also lacks.  By 2:30 this morning, he'll be ska-reeming at the top of his distraught lungs, "F-YOU, YOU EFFING B," over 'n over 'n over while slamming doors loud enough to knock dust off knicknacks.  Asshole.  I never hear Effing B respond except in tears and futile explanations and wish wish wish that she would get away from him.

Two nights ago I did another sleep study and have been experiencing a jet lag where evening sidles into the next day, except it feels still like the same day you started with.  It's weird, because the technicians that watch you sleep obviously have to stay up all night to do so.  They are inside-out people who live in a world of softness and sheets, with conductive gels and wires and darkened rooms.

Oh wait, pastyface turned on the 'monster voice' voicechanger and is making heavy metal monster pronouncements along with his alleged crapola guitar weirdness.

The sleep study ends at five a.m., when they scoot you out so they can go home and sleep.  Half dozed, the biting, frigid wind blew my tailfeathers wide awake as I scraped ice from the car, so the drive back home at 5:39 was frosty, yet elevated the godawful coffee they supplied to religious status.  Heat, it supplied heat even though it had squirted out of a plastic coffee cartridge from a Keurig machine and tasted like, well, hot plastic from a Vac-U-Forms toy factory.

I've tightened up my sleep mask, which seems to keep things in place better than before, and am still digging stubborn conductant out of my hair.  The stuff doesn't dissolve that well, and ends up as surprise white goo in the tub drain and elsewhere.

But yes, this is Thursday and tomorrow is blessed Friday.  I have been sleep studying, working, going to class, back to sleep, working, and going to class for two days solid and the cats say who are you when I appear at the door.  I am looking forward to seeing Cousin Ginny and her husband Frank on Saturday for an early supper, as this week has been too much fast food and bags of chips, with a raw carrot thrown in occasionally for balance.  Har.

I am tired, my own good coffee machine is primed to go off in the morning, and I am tired.  Sleep well, say a small prayer for the tiny things that live outside.   The moon is at a quarter and piercingly cold.  Good night, good night.