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Isomnia and derangement
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Transformers Poster
Or why I haven't seen Transformers
I had every intention of seeing Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen until my daughter informed me that it was crap and at three hours and twenty-three minutes, very long crap. So last night I decided to hit the sack early but a restful sleep was not to be. First I was agitated by heinous, nasty dreams primarily about the pajama-wearing whack job in North Korea just dying to unleash his nukes on the USA. And then the cats woke me up at three a.m. I admit I am rather fond of Maddie Hayes and Murphy Brown, but at times they have a disturbing penchant for French-kissing me in the wee hours of the morning. I wouldn’t mind it so much if they didn’t taste like Little Friskies, but this time I was tempted to wring their furry little necks. So that was it, my night was mutilated. I did what any other semi-coherent mad man would do – I jacked-up on red bull and went in to work.
There was no traffic at four in the morning and the office was dark and quiet. I got a lot done, but then the fatigue hit me like a ton of bricks. And my blood sugar was running low, which just made me want to slap anyone nearby and scarf down a bologna sandwich. But I couldn’t find anything open at that ungodly hour so I was in a sleepless, diabetic hell. It almost felt like the result of a weeklong college bender twenty years ago but not as fun, and at least back then I couldn’t remember I single thing I did after all the depravity. These days, it is an all-too clear, vivid awareness of hell.
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