Tired

I could sleep for a week and a half.

I realized yesterday that over the past two weeks, I've slept away from home five nights. Five out of fourteen doesn't sound like much, but it was in three different places and spread out one night at a time (Saturday - Wednesday - Saturday - Tuesday - Thursday). It meant that something was always missing because I kept changing bags (the headphones to my iPod, the hairbrush, a Metrocard, the keys to my office). It meant anticipating what I'd want to wear, to read. It meant general discombobulation.

Yesterday, I got up and drove to my mother's house in the morning, picked up my six year old niece, took her and Miss M. to a matinee, and then handed them off to W. He took them back to my mother's to drop off the six year old and then returned home with Miss M. I stayed in the City, wandering around and visiting a friend, killing time before the evening performance. And even though it was the last performance, I left at the second intermission, because I. just. had. to. go. home.

I have an endoscopy on Wednesday. I am looking forward to it - because it is first thing in the morning and I get to spend the rest of the day in bed. Who'd have thought an endoscopy would be something to desire?