Guess who can’t sleep again? Which, really, I’m ambivalent about. I suspected something like this would go down especially after sleeping 13 hours the night prior. For those of you who don’t already know, night shift hours shave years of your life. It has to do with the chronic sleep deprivation, defiance of circadian rhythm, and inconsistent sleep times. Myself, I plan on enduring that night schedule for a little longer, hopefully school can be attended full time in the spring.

Other than sleep deprivation, I’m as healthy as I’ve been in a long ole time. I never eat the fast food, plenty of veggies and fruits, lots of exercise, a few drinks now and again but always responsibly. I don’t smoke, meditate to reduce stress, I’ve even been dutiful with time spent on the computer. I’d insert a deprecating joke about being a health nut, but all this is coming fairly naturally and feels damn good. Probably because I’m meandering into middle age.

This weekend has been a good one for me. Actually, a great one. School work is caught up and unexpectedly low this time of the week. Ask me if the same is true during midterms and finals. Work is well. I very much enjoy lightly vexing the coworkers who take things too seriously. I’m not sure why but adding a little levity and occasionally coaxing a smile is a good feeling. Heh, there are occasions where it backfires, too; best be careful. The home, for once, is clean; that is, clean for a bachelor/artist.

Speaking of, I miss art. I do little exercises now and again but it’s not quite the same as refining a hearty piece. The last painting or drawing I did was early August. Most free time these past three days has been allocated to refining the books and getting everything ready for publication. Not one huge deal, just a ton of namby-pamby tasks, then double checking to make sure all is correct, in the right order, and up to snuff. I’ll be happier when the whole shibang is finished. Good news is: it’s about a month from being finished. Then on to promotion.

You know, I really should just take it easy and do a tour of art fairs. I’m familiar with them and I get the biggest bang for my buck. Truth be told, this is the plan of action and most likely to happen. I just like to wring my hands and fret. I tell myself I’m a homebody who doesn’t like travel, that I’m uncomfortable in large crowds, even that my night shift sleeping schedule conflicts too mightily with those 12-16 daylight work hours; let’s be honest, though, it’s the change from the routine that bothers me most. I get comfy in my my cozy little ruts. I know I put on a good front every once in a while with the moanin’-n-groanin’, honesty reinforced, I’ve been a happy little camper for a while now. I can and will rise to the occasion just fine.