To make matters worse, I've spent the last week wandering around our 600 sq. ft. apartment with insomnia woes. Often those nights include a lovely 10 p.m. meal much like this x2 or 3:
These late night meals are brought on by my daily making of something to eat only to decide it's exactly opposite of what I really wanted to eat. By then I'm way less motivated to make something new. Hence me discovering that I'm starving during the late night watch.
And I'm positive that my lack of eating (coupled with insomnia) produces hours of me wanting nothing more than to lay on our couch and sleep. (Perhaps a possible reason I was on a couch in my nightmare). Rori thoroughly disagrees with these urges of mine and happily explores the couch as if it were a playground while I try to convince her that blocks sound like a lot more fun.
All this would seemingly be bearable if I hadn't recently begun to HATE the taste of coffee. Every once in a while I'll find a good cup. But having only a french press in my coffee making arsenal, I've found the home brew has suddenly become extremely lacking.
Check back in 6 months and all these symptoms will be gone. I'll most definitely be a lot happier, although probably not more rested.
Baby Meagher #2