...is not my cat.
As much as I may wish it to be the case, it's age.
I am getting greedy. With time.
I don't like to sleep.
It's all the little things that race about in my head as I close my eyes.
The hamster in the wheel is on about 5 pots of coffee, and burning out the axle.
I don't think it's normal, to hate sleep.
I see it as an enemy, consuming 3-5 hours of every precious day that I have. (should be 8, "but I have a cat see...and she's evil see...and she helps my insomnia see"...said in a bad early Chicago mob accent).
I see my life-clock, and I know that carousel is coming...but I don't want to embrace Renewal.
I want to squeeze every drop of potential out of every waking moment, and I want more of the moments to be waking.
I need a job. The longer I am without, the more difficult it is for me to squeeze.
Maybe I should take up criminal activity, to support my nefarious desires to live! :)
I have a wife who actually knows, and loves, ME. (poor girl)
I live in a house that has been in my family for my entire life.
I have a family across the street for moral support.
I have a home, a roof over my head, and am rediscovering lost friends and family.
Why am I fighting something as simple as sleep?
If I had a fellow insomniac to share these late night ramblings with, I could enjoy it more.
All I have is a shat-tastic cat! :P