Well, last night was a better night, but after 3 weeks with only 2 better nights in the mix, I'm officially exhausted. "Better" means, you know, I'm not downstairs with a fussy Anne at 3 am watching The Bob Newhart Show on the Hallmark channel, with soaking wet pajamas from her drool and sore body parts from all the baby elbowing going on. It's a relative term, you see.
It's not so bad, really. I do not despair. But I do have a hard time coming up with new belly dance combinations when I'm this tired, and I'm supposed to have a fresh one crafted for tonight's class. Lack of sleep = fuzzy brain.
This must also explain how the other day I stood in front of my office with my key in the lock trying to open the door, and it took me a full 20 seconds to realize that this wasn't my office at all. It was the identical office exactly one floor up from mine. I actually climbed a full extra set of stairs and didn't realize it. Luckily, the occupant wasn't in the office, or else I would have been mortified. It was difficult enough trying to look casual as I wrenched my key out of the lock and strolled away in front of the students studying along the nearby wall. I also stopped off on the floor that I thought was the main floor Wednesday morning to report in for my reference shift and stood baffled for a moment wondering when they moved all these tall stacks with journals on them to the main floor right in front of the doors. Right. Once again, the Stairwell Devil had coaxed me out onto the wrong floor and I was powerless in his vicious grip.
It's also been tough to stay awake in meetings lately, but I bravely soldier on.
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