These past few weeks have been busy for me with my paying gig. I am part-time, and the shifts I work are always closing ones.
Which doesn't really become an issue in the least until the mall goes to holidays hours to accommodate who-all-I-don't-know.
Then I'm not home until well after midnight. Which is past my bedtime and well past my husband's.
Usually when I get home, I crawl right into bed. My husband has warmed it nicely, and there are flannel sheets. My body is crying for rest.
But my brain?
Hah. No. My brain says that I am finally done processing information for the day and that is confusing. My brain says that I need to wind down with a book or some On Demand.
So I try to think about things to get me to fall asleep. Sometimes I tell myself bedtime stories, other times I just let my brain do its thing while I try to relax my face.
I have a face I make. Like, all the time. Its weird. Tension, perhaps.
Last night there were sounds of an owl coming in through my crappy bedroom window.
And I thought about owls. I respect them. Predatory birds are my favorite. I really do think my spirit animal is a hawk.
But owls are like the schoolteachers of (my version of) the bird world.
And if you think it is odd that I have an imaginary personified version of the bird world, well then...you can go ahead and go fu*k yourself. (name that movie)