The undead homecoming queen keeps me up at nights.

[truepenny]

I know this insomnia.

I don't like it.

This is the insomnia of the overly-busy brain. I'm too tired to do anything useful, and I know it, and yet? My brain will not SHUT UP.

I finished the pass through the CEM, and now have a laundry list of little niggling things--a wrong word here, an unsuitable surname there--I need to mend and polish in the next couple of days so I can send the book off, face washed, hair combed, shoes shined, to be in New York by January third. And my brain, confronted with this laundry list, is convinced I'm too busy to sleep.

No Big Macs in space, as an early Bloom County says.

And it's not, mind you, that I can solve any of that laundry list of problems at the moment. I've solved as many problems for this book as I can solve today; I need to rest, recharge, come to it fresh in the morning.

I know this.

And there I am, lying awake, unable to get comfortable, while my brain runs round and round and round on its squeaky exercise wheel.

The night shift squirrels are staffing the front desk again.

Fasten your seat-belts. It's going to be a bumpy night.

Comments

[touch-of-ink.livejournal.com]

I hate that. The only thing that ever worked for me was getting one of those light up pens and writing the stuff down. Once it was down on paper, my brain realized I was taking this stuff seriously and would let me (eventually) get to sleep.

On the other hand, I started talking about parts of my own body in a third person :)