I fell asleep in the chair in the living room tonight, mid-stitch in my crochet. I wouldn't go so far as to call it a narcoleptic episode, but I wasn't entirely aware of tilting the chair back and falling under. The is the first time I have ever done this. Ann let me stay in the chair, dimming the lights and turning off the television on her way out. At some point, she headed off to bed. I assume she tried to wake me up, and I preferred to stay there in a state of suspended animation instead of getting under the blankets.
I wonder what the atmosphere was in that room for the few hours where I slept in the half-lighted room, cats scampering around and traffic passing by out on the street. I wonder this because I am now awake three hours later, and I cannot understand what happened to me that I somehow turned into my father and fell into a doze right in the middle of everything that was happening in the house.
My body must have finally shut down after three weeks of being run into the ground.
I have not been taking care of myself the way that I should this month. I've been wasting time playing video games and staring off into space at inopportune moments. Meals are something the be pushed through only because I know I should eat something. I haven't been to the gym in god knows how long. I've been losing concentration at work, and that's been consistently biting me the ass with angry phone conversations and mistakes I would never have made. Current events and political goings-on have become a confusing background drone to all of this, barely registering in my conscious.
I'm waiting to wake up from this episode. I'm sure that some time I'm going to get up in the morning and I'm going to snap back into place. It will be like this month never happened, and I can just pluck up whatever is around me and off I will go. That could even be tomorrow morning, with the events of tonight becoming some kind of transformation, and then I will be okay.
But I'm not holding my breath for this to happen.
I think I'll go to bed.