Ohm, Karma, and a Monkey

On Monday night we had storms.  I didn’t know that because I was sawing logs with my sleep number set on 45, dreaming of a strange child named Ohm who was up for auction because he broke out in bruised lumps on his body whenever he made a sound. 

Uh, yeah.
I probably should lay off the late night snacks. 

The next morning, I stumbled out of bed to check Facebook and heard from my town friends that there were tornadoes in 57 surrounding counties and it was frightening.  To everyone except me.  Instead I was being haunted by Ohm, and was taking his picture and blogging about him to try to find him a good home.  I was hoping you would take him in.  You would wouldn’t you? 

Tornadoes in real life. 
Weird boys who flap their hands in dreamland.

Anyway, I was just so thoroughly impressed with myself and my sleeping abilities.  Because obviously, I’ve got to work with what I have.  So impressed, in fact, that I bragged about it on facebook. 

You remember what my grannie always said, “She who tooteth her own horn, the same shall not be tooted.” 

Needless to say, I awoke this morning at 2:20 with a brain synonymous to a monkey on Red Bull and acid. I tried praying, I tried stretching, I tried reading, I tried deep breathing.  If Jason had been in the bed, I’d’ve tried that too.  I was desperate. 
Nothing would settle the monkey.

So I finally gave up at 4:00, had coffee and started my day.  Now I’m tired.
The last time I bragged, my goldfish died.

You know what they say about her don’t cha?

Lesson learned this time.

The monkey is finally sleeping.

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