Well, the giddiness of making it through yesterday resulted in very poor sleep, so today has been a little painful. I’m afraid I’m at a loss for anything remotely poetic or profound, so it’s another stream of consciousness kind of evening.

Walking through the last 13 hours without sleep was a little like existing in a parallel universe where everything seemed eerily familiar, and yet distinctly unfamiliar. There is no lingering autopilot to direct me through days like this, so I found myself carefully planning each goal, and thinking over much about how to get from one place to another, doubting my memories and sense of direction from moment to moment.

I met the sweet woman who will be house sitting next week, and could barely form a coherent sentence. Because, no sleep, new person, shy introvert, well, you get the idea.

Fortunately, despite it all, practical things were accomplished, and I even managed a few sentences for a story. Maybe all of these daily rambles are paying off in the discipline and “value of practice” departments. I like to think so. Largely irrelevant writing is still writing, right?

I’m sure things will settle quickly when I’m back home for good for a few weeks, but for now, I’ll drift along and do what I can to nest and keep the words flowing, ruminating periodically over the weirdness of being slightly and temporarily displaced for the next couple days.

Perhaps, with a few hours of decent sleep, the ground will feel more solid in the morning.

In the spirit of intention setting… I see a good book and dreamland in my near future!

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