It's way past my bedtime; I took melatonin (not a drug, in case you don't feel like looking it up), but I still can't sleep.
My stomach has been in tumult for an hour straight and is just now settling, and it is, apparently, indirectly correlated with my brain. Meaning, my brain refuses to settle down now.
It has been the most bizarre of weeks. Both Chris and I were sick and relegated to the apartment for too long, and are trying not to be dumb and relapse because we're both so keyed up that we can resume normal life again. Health is quite underrated!
My car (La Bamba) was crunched from behind--and possibly totaled--on date night, on an innocuous trip to pick up a pizza. Dang pizza. Sure was tasty, though!
And, as you may expect at almost 1 a.m., my already-fractious thoughts are in even smaller shards, many and confusing. I want to wake Chris up, but I would feel awful doing so without a reason except for want of the company. It's at times like these where I realize, with full force, that I possess zero control over my life.
Things happen; life happens. It doesn't stop for me. It leaves me behind.
I question what I know to be true as I rifle through the week's confusion; I totter on the edge of doubt and fear. I remind myself, as if reciting a mantra, that God is sovereign. I try to lie back and know it.
I'll sleep now. I remember, from middle and high school, that spinning deep thoughts during the hours that emotion deposes reason can be quite unproductive. Besides, I did say I wanted company, and I'm pretty sure Chris isn't getting up for at least five more hours. I'm think I can find some shut-eye in there, somewhere! :)