Late entry today, as I have just gotten up because…I went to bed around 6:30. That’s AM, people. Why? Because the stomach virus that has been making the rounds lately—spurring one horror story after another—hit here last night. Not me: my husband. But I was up with him all night, and headed out at around 5:45 to the all night grocery store for Gatorade and supplies. Walking the aisles, running on no sleep, I was completely out of it, but not quite enough so as not to notice the muzak, which was playing “Thank You” by Dido and “The Things We Do For Love” by someone from the seventies. There was nobody at the grocery store other than some guys who looked REALLY awake buying cigarettes and me, plus the clerks who were up stocking, with cardboard boxes scattered all over the place. One of them, seeing me with my gatorade and Tylenol, gave me a sad smile.
Driving back, half asleep, I passed the gym in Carrboro: THAT’S where the people are at just before six in the morning. Lots of them, running on treadmills, doing the elliptical, stepping like crazy. Good God, talk about devotion. I think I’m so good just because I roll out of bed and drag myself up the stairs to my old creaky treadmill, but these folks are serious. I was impressed.
Now, however, I’m just exhausted and operating on that totally surreal plane of the Very Little Sleep. Everything seems like it’s in slow motion, even typing this. I think I’d better go back to bed and hope I don’t come down with this thing. Fingers crossed!