Mrmph.

I got to bed before 11 last night, but I'm still dragging this morning. I slept oddly; every little thing seemed to wake me up. Matt coming to bed, the cat settling himself by my ankles, the feel of my own bones under my skin... (Seriously, my hips felt bruised and achey, like I was pregnant again. Maybe now that I am less cushion-y myself, it's time to look into a softer mattress.) And when I slept, my dreams were disturbing.

Maybe I'll chalk it up to the disturbing stuff I was writing last night. Or that I just started reading The Graveyard Book (yes, I'm running quite behind).

Whatever the case, by the time our alarms started blaring at us this morning, the bed had resolved its softness issues and was warm and cozy and inviting, and the rest of the world... not so much.

It doesn't help that 6am is only barely past dawn, so it's still fairly dark and dreary-looking. Nor does it help that I'm looking at a day chock-full of hideous meetings (I am literally triple-booked for about half an hour this afternoon, in fact, and double-booked for at least two more hours across the day). I won't be getting to the gym at lunchtime, that's for sure. (Though I have to leave the building somehow, so I brought in my camera, and will go out for half an hour and take pictures of the flowers or something.)

The fact that I am here at all, writing this and marshaling my strength and resources instead of running screaming for the hills is, I think, a testament to my dedication and devotion.