The Ansomnea

I thought last night's blog was going to be my last entry for a day or so - but alas, that was not to be. Somehow, someway, insomnia reached up and bit my backside, and I am wired. Completely wired. And this without the aid of caffeine or any other drugs.

Being that I haven't been sleeping particularly well in the past few days, going an entire night on about 45 minutes worth of shut-eye last night is has taken its toll on my mood. I have, as my father used to call it, "Bitchitis"®

The symptoms of Bitchitis are very similar to PMS, only much more dangerous to anyone within a mile of me. They include:

- extreme irritability
- excessive moodiness
- crankiness that would put a hungry, sleepy, dirty-diapered toddler to shame
- forgetfulness
- the need to blame my current state on anyone and everyone
- proclivity to aggressive behavior
- impulsive need to engage in activities that put myself and anyone else involved in dangerous situations.

A good example of Bitchitis in action: This summer, while under the influence of this condition, I was in a hurry to meet a friend for some activity or another. I was late, because I couldn't concentrate on getting ready and kept dropping things. Naturally, this was all the fault of my brother, who had called earlier in the day. It was also Joe's fault, who I was going to meet.

Anyhow, rushing out the door, I come to an intersection - the one that separates me from the elevated train I need to take to get where it was I needed to go. The "don't walk" sign flashed red as I got to the corner, and so I begrudgingly decided to wait for the light to turn green again. In the minute and half I was waiting at the corner, I was fidgiting around, pacing back and forth, cursing under my breath, trying to find an opening in the traffic I could bolt through - all the while getting progressively more upset.

When the "walk" sign finally changed to my favor, one of the cars in traffic was still trying to come to a stop, which it did, completely in the pedestrian zone, with its bumper dangerously close to the traffic coming perpendicular to it. This left me no alternative but to cross the street directly into traffic.

Or so one would think.

Enraged by this moronic bastard excuse for a human being who would park in my way while I was trying to cross the street, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I stepped up on the bumper of the car, crossed the street on the hood of this poor sap's car and crossed the street - never once looking back.

Was this wise? Was this even remotely safe? No, don't be silly. But I couldn't be bothered with that at the time. I had Bitchitis. Of course, I am lucky that the driver of the vehicle had the initial reaction of shock, dropping her jaw to her chest, rather than dropping her foot to the gas pedal. I have no idea if anyone noticed how I'd crossed the street aside from the woman whose car was in my way. In fact, I didn't even realize that what I'd done wasn't probably the best solution to the problem until about an hour later. I felt justified in my bizzare actions, because after all, SHE WAS PARKED IN MY WAY, and so fuck her!

Knowing that I tend to be kind of irrational when I am this tired, I opted not to go to work today. Of course, I am racked with guilt about it right now, because it is the coldest day of the year (-4F at the moment), and the office folks are going to assume I stayed home rather than to brave the cold. I almost did go in after I'd taken a shower. But then I thought about the poor souls in my office who would be subjected to my mood, and of my poor self when the feistier members of my group met up with the Bitchitis. There are no meetings that cannot go on without me. There is no project I have started that can't wait. The world of my Office will continue to function (or dysfunction as it were) for one day without me. I am just not that big of a cog in this particular wheel. I haven't called in sick in awhile either. Come on conscience, it is just ONE day!