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So for the last few years, I have been having trouble sleeping on Sunday nights. It has nothing to due with coffee or sleeping late on the weekend, it's because just as I'm on the edge of sleep, my imagination starts working overtime. It'll fill my head with visions of the mind-numbing horrors that await me (in my department of one) upon my return to work in the morning. It will invision catastrophes that have but a tenuous connection to reality, and that I, alone, will have to deal with. Then, as the hours spent tossing and turning mount and it's mere minutes before the alarm clock sounds, it chides me to sleep, sleep so I might have the strength to face the coming ordeals.
So on Mondays I'm tired, grumpy, feel like cr*p and I just know it's going to be a bad day. Unfortunately, my pessimism (or clairvoyance) is usually correct.
I hate it when that happens.
However, last night I slept well. No tossing, no turning. No visions of unrealistic catastrophes. No tripping over the dog during my nightly sojourn to the washroom. Nothing. I awoke rested and refreshed. I dressed quickly (getting my socks each on the correct foot), and my steps were spritely as I took the dog on his morning walk. It was Monday, and I felt good!... too good...
So this Monday I'm grumpy, full of dread, and feel like cr*p because I just know today is going to be the day when the Dark Dimensions open, dead Cthulhu awakes and eats my face off with his tenticled maw.
I hate it when that happens.
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