My sleep cycles have been skewed all week as Fuzzy’s schedule and funky, dark, weather pushed our waking time later and later, and lingering cold/sinus issues have me taking either cold meds or benadryl to be able to breathe. (Breathing is good.)

Yesterday (Friday, not Saturday) I slept til ten, wrote for four hours for work, napped, piddled with webstuff, napped, ordered dinner, napped, watched a movie, drank a lot of chai, and ultimately got three hours of sleep on Saturday morning, finally giving up around 7:30 after several attempts to rest. At ten, I went to get the refill of Zorro-dog’s heart pills (blood pressure pills), stopped at Starbucks for a cinnamon dolce latte (venti, nonfat, lite whip) and an apple fritter (so unhealthy, so delicious, and good for my soul) , and the caffeine finally put me to sleep (yes, I know, but when you live a highly caffeinated life sometimes MORE is what is needed.)

Fuzzy joined me in bed – he’s not feeling well, and has been up late with net issues from work all week – and we slept fitfully through the day. Well, I did. I went to bed (caffeinated and taking a melatonin, and wearing the sleep mask mom gave me for Christmas) at 11:40. Woke up at 2:30, looked at the clock, looked at my pillow, moved a dog to a more comfortable (for me) spot on the bed, and went back to sleep. Woke again at six, and made Fuzzy go feed the dogs (Zorro’s abscess inflated again, and he wasn’t into food, but going hungry won’t kill him – really – and he’d had pizza crust late Friday night). Did some light housework – I was sick and then hugely busy, and still sick, during the first chunk of January, so while the Xmas tree has been unlit and the dining room it’s in largely unused for weeks, we never put it away. Last night, I finally got around to putting the ornaments in their new purple tub (will need a second one if we buy even ONE ornament next year) and did a whole bunch of laundry, and changed the sheets on the bed, taking off the flannel and putting the nautical cotton pinstripes back on.

Fuzzy took a benadryl because he’s having an allergy rash, and I’ve been trying to get him to take one for DAYS. “I’m not sneezing.” “But it’s an antihistamine, and a rash is an histaminic reaction.” “But there are no other symptoms.” “There don’t have to be.”

He doesn’t generally take allergy meds. This one knocked him out, but I was still using the bed to fold laundry. Around eleven thirty, I made him come downstairs. We had cocoa and peanut butter sandwiches in bed, and watched 2/3 of a cheesy sci-fi channel movie about tornadoes and gypsies, before conking out at 1.

Then his phone rang at 3:39, and I’ve been up for almost an hour now (used restroom, let dogs out to do same, drank cranberry juice, fetched new bottle of water, wrote this entry.)

My sniffles are back with a vengeance, and I’ve already had a melatonin tonight (which should have kept me out, but at least let me fall asleep quickly) and another (half dose) of benadryl is apparently in order.

While my job does not require that I work “normal” hours, we live in a nine-to-five town, and Fuzzy does have to do most of his work during “regular” time, so I hope I can shift back to a reasonable schedule this week. I missed weight lifting on Friday (Fuzzy worked from home and I didn’t want to blast music) and yesterday (asleep) so will try to do it later today, and then do Tues-Thurs -Sat this week.

And now…back to sleep (as am already in bed).