Sleepathon

The isolating sleepathon continues. I have slept through several weeks of support group meetings, adventure and social opportunities. I even slept through most of Saturday's anxiously awaited work crew arrival, failing to discover scheduling plans because I couldn't get my lethargic butt out of bed. My quiet voice tells me the outrageous hours of sleep are a combination of the lethargy I always feel in the long nights of the winter solstice, adapting to the colder climate and sleep processing of the many changes still percolating through my life. 2017 has been quite a landmark year for me, on many levels. Still, I am saluting ^it^ as a psycho nag flag in my daily inventory. I am a major league isolator, after all and my talent for denial is equal to creating severe trauma induced amnesia.

Problem envy is one of the typical results of my "If" compulsion. "If I had your ____ I would/would not ____." Fill in the first blank with whatever and my If compulsion can if its way to a profound would. Among the weirder items I have put into the first blank is, "physical handicap." If I had your physical handicap, I wouldn't have been able to pull some of my more bone-headed stunts. I wouldn't have been able to cause so much damage during my psychotic breaks.

At 63, the physical decline of ageing have long been a part of my daily inventory. It's been a while since I have had the physical prowess to pull some of the more bone-headed stunts of my youth, but I still have plenty of strength to get more bone-headed than is socially or personally acceptable.

Dunno where this is headed. . . Sorting. . .

I sure wish I'd gotten my lethargic butt out of bed to talk to the contractors about scheduling. I guess lethargy can get pretty bone-headed, too.