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unbeautiful morning

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unbeautiful morning

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Awake, I am. Have been since about quarter to 5.

I was dreaming about a theatrical production of The Ring. I did not get to the jump parts - it only went on for a very brief time - but either the dream woke me or I woke then spontaneously. Then my brain, though unperturbed at the unscary dream, would not quit worrying at how to effectively stage the show. This was a very annoying stunt on the part of my brain, because a) it was in that semi-wakeful state and on rising to complete consciousness I couldn't remember most of it, and b) I was an actor, I'm ignorant of the tech side of stagecraft, and I certainly did not come up with any groundbreaking solutions. Shut off both the stage lights AND the emergency lights? Genius! Sheer, lawbreaking genius!

Sleep proved elusive after that bullshit, so I decided to do some useful things: plug the phone into the charger; make Mike change his alarm time an hour later so I would not have to listen to an hour of his snooze; pick up all the laundry in my room; and finally take apart the sickbed nest that developed on the bed last week. I'm prone to letting things accumulate on the bed anyway, a hazard of having a king bed for one, but it's been hard to clear the detritus since I still have the damned symptoms.

Also finished my reread of Robin McKinley's Sunshine. As protagonists in vampire books go, Sunshine blows that annoying Sookie Stackhouse out of the water. I wish those books were not otherwise fun; her southern gal crap brings out all my "this is what's wrong with women!" misogyny.

My face hurts from lack of sleep so trying for more unconsciousness now.
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