Sleep Wars

My body and I are at war with one another.  Sunday night (Monday morning) I had three hours of sleep (6am-9am), and 30 minutes nap throughout the day.  Throughout most of Monday I was exhausted, but I kept on plowing through because it felt so good to be getting things done.  Even as I am distracted most evening y rowdy people who needed to have a mental break (me too, generally), from midnight to 6am I can usually get a lot of work done because people are sleeping.  I didn't even nod off in classes on Monday because my body was in survival mode.  Monday night/Tuesday morning was the same, but on Tuesday I experienced major eye-sores that left me blind my class.  So I just closed my eyes and listened, nodding once in a while to prove to myself and the world that I was still awake.  I took a nap from 9pm-midnight on Tuesday, woke up and went to the computer cluster where everybody was up and talking.  So, I figured I'd go back to bed and wake up at 3am (6 hours of sleep, right?) and get working again 3am-6am.  I slept until 9am, then fell asleep in physics lecture.

I can hear my body say, "Make me work on 3 hours of sleep?  Let me show you how I can keep you sleeping even when you've rested enough."

Damn it.

Right now I feel all warm and happy because a part of my brain has disconnected itself from the impending doom of failing my bio midterm (Thursday night) and physics midterm (Friday morning).  Therefore, I would like to take this time and celebrate Australia Day.

What Katie Ate

May I find myself studying abroad in Australia next Fall.

P.S. I had a dream where I was on a farm that had to shut down, so I ran away with one of their miniature horses, feeling bad as I made the horse carry me.  I had found some reins that were too tight for it.  My sleep got interrupted, but I went back under and found myself carrying a pug-sized cat to some pet therapist's house, and there was a bundle of food that we were all trying to keep away from that cat.  It ran away from us and hid under the couches, and when we finally dragged it out and packed it into its crate to go home, I can hear the cat's voice in my head: "Alright, but you people should know that a very delicious morsel of food had fallen out under that couch."  Apparently, the parcel of food had small containers of condiments, which had fallen out.

ETA:  Response?

Skip Bio42 lecture, write this post, run 2 miles at the gym, and coffee.