Sleep is a fickle mistress, I've found. A mobile bedfellow, a here-today-gone-tomorrow slut of a partner. I've been having trouble with sleep lately. It hasn't been affecting my running or schooling too much, because on the whole I think I've been getting enough sleep. Just kind of weird sleep, that's all. When I try to go to bed, my mind starts going into creative overdrive. I started conceiving a murder mystery in my head last night that takes place in a convent called Then There Were Nuns, then remembered that I had a job interview today and had to get a list of conflicts and references together and all this crap. I just couldn't close my eyes and sleep. My roommate also keeps peculiar hours, which doesn't help. Sleeping most of the day, the "Fussin' Russian" (I just dubbed him) took out the recycling for us Saturday night around 3:30 AM, making some noise with the glass bottles along the way.

EDITOR'S NOTE: This post was actually about 4 times as long as is shown here. Blogger.com, useful as it is, messed up the autosave function after I had published the last note and went to add some tags. I lost everything except this first lonely paragraph. I went on to write about how cool it was to be busy with stuff you like to to, fun times I've had around campfires, and all the cures for cancer I've discovered thus far. Also a pretty sweet joke about an American who is invited to a party in the mountains of Scotland. Far too much trouble to re-write, I may clue my chem teacher in about the cancer cures, tho. After I sleep. Oh, sleep...