Yeah. I'll Get Right on That

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I took that muscle relaxant right after posting last night. I was asleep before midnight. Not sure by how much. I slept until about half an hour ago--quarter to five, give or take--nearly 17 hours!!! Not that I never woke up. I did several times but I just couldn't be bothered to move. So I'd fall back to sleep. Into dreams that were vivid but not exactly pleasant. Not quite nightmares. A lot of sorting and other kinds of monotonous chores. A lot of arguing with characters from real life and story that morphed in and out. A lot of listening to alarming news reports from a radio or TV that wasn't in the scene so maybe those voices were coming out of the ether. And that sense of moving being an effort. Such an effort! Like swimming in pudding.

I'm sitting up now. Waiting for the call to dinner. The complaints from that muscle in my back are at whisper level as long as I make no sudden moves. I thought I'd get something posted now so I can use my session tonight for something else. Maybe write. Maybe read (currently in middle of The Elegance of the Hedgehog). Maybe crochet. Maybe a little of each. But at this moment it is hard to imagine wanting to do anything but go back to sleep. Only the memory of that dreariness I just woke from keeps me from wanting that.