Nothing

I’m finding that I could sleep for a minimum of 18 out of the 24 hours in the day. It is noon and I am exhausted. At 6 p.m. I can barely keep my eyes open. I doze through an evening with the TV on, waking up to find the Yankee game has progressed one inning, two, sometimes more. I fight the sleep knowing that as soon as my head hits the pillow at bedtime, I will wake up. And I do. At 11 p.m. it seems a good idea to watch a movie. At 1:30 we force ourselves to go to bed. My digital clock skips forward with the same skipped beats as the Yankee game and my heart: two o’clock, three-fifteen, four-thirty, etc. I awake with the light to discover the sheets clammy with sweat, the covers in disarray, the knot in my stomach still there from the night before. My house is a mess and though I have the time to do something about it I have neither the energy nor the faintest idea of where to start. Just now I carried the Pledge and a chamois cloth upstairs with the intention of dusting. But before dusting, I need to clear off the coffee table. I sort through the papers I have postponed dealing with, find myself needing to go on line to find out which of these bills I have paid and if there are any automatic deposits I haven’t accounted for so that I can pay the bills. I find that I have already scheduled these bills for payment but neglected to put them away. I put them in another pile. There is one deposit, thank God, but since I haven’t received the statements, entering the amount in my ledger will have to wait until the mail comes but its Labor Day weekend so that will take some waiting. So I close the account on line and start talking to you instead.

I have nothing to say.