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Out cold, comatose, down for the count 1

Dear Bradshaw,

I’m tired, exhausted, bushed, beat. I know I’ve written about this before but I’m telling you the last times were nothing like now. I can hardly keep my eyes open. I’ve been falling asleep while working, falling asleep while eating, falling asleep while shaving, even falling asleep while waking up.

I’m a useless blob, too pooped to pop. Really, Shaw, if life has to go on like this I don’t see much point of it going on at all. I mean, what am I good for? Yawning. Snoozing. Wishing I was in bed sleeping. I hope and pray this wears off and that I return to normal soon because if not = bridge, cliff, balcony of an eight-storey building (which is right outside my window)! Perhaps it’s a side effect of our vacation. After all, we were on our own schedule for three weeks, going to sleep and waking up on a whim, i.e. whenever we wanted.

I know what you’re thinking = I should stand up and walk around more while working, pinch myself, or drink coffee. It’s true, of course, I could drink coffee, but I hate to think I’d have to depend on it to stay awake. I should be able to keep my eyes open just because I can, right? After all, I sleep seven or eight hours a night. That should be enough, shouldn’t it? Besides, coffee makes me anxious and fidgety, stains my teeth, and is not the healthiest choice of drinks.

Today I was lucky. One of my students cancelled so I came home, lay down in our living room, and then slept for an hour, which is a first for me because my naps always (not usually but ALWAYS) last ten to fifteen minutes. Power naps. Today though I slept a dead man’s sleep. I was out cold, comatose, down for the count for sixty solid minutes. I can’t help but think it’s an aging issue, or that something’s wrong with my diet, or perhaps, as I mentioned above, my mind and body are still on vacation.

That’s it for this letter. I’m exhausted, beat, bushwhacked, too tired to stand up, sit down, turn around or anything otherwise. In fact, the only thing I am good for is nothing. That’s exactly it. I’m good for nothing, except yawning, snoozing or wishing I was in bed sleeping. So how am I surviving at the moment? Drinking wine. I reach down, grab the glass, raise it to my mouth, and that’s something. Jeez, Shaw, maybe you’re right about getting up and walking around and pinching myself while working. I think tomorrow I’ll give it a try. Only question is: where should I pinch myself?

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  1. pinch yourself in the most illusory place…of course!

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