Too much sleep!

I slept 8.5 hours last night. Seriously. And the night before I slept 7 hours. Even though I had to get up at 5am to run. So I had like 15.5 hours sleep in 2 days. That's just insane.

I know, I know, there are those who get, who need, 8 hours of sleep a night or they just fall apart. And the thing is, I may even be one of them. But I just don't do it. I sleep 5-6 hours, and I'm chronically tired. As in don't sit down or you'll fall asleep tired. I think if I didn't run I could probably do great on 6 hours a night, but when you throw the running in there I end up dragging ass most days. Why do I sleep so little, you ask? No you don't. Cone on, who would ask that? I'll try hard to imagine someone asking that. Ok, I'm imagining it, but they're asking me that in a totally "ok, I'll humor you, here's your set up question" kind of tone. That's about the best I can do. So, why do I sleep so little, you ask in an "ok I'll humor you, here's your set up question" kind of tone? Fuck if I know. I used to sleep even less, just bad habits, and I cherish my times at night when everyone else is asleep and I get to unwind and do whatever I want (usually computer, read, or work) without interruption. And it's hard to give that up. So I guess I do know.

For me to sleep that much is just odd. My wife asked me in a serious way if I was ok when I told her I was going to bed at 9:30 last night. I told her I was just tired of feeling tired. The 8.5 hours felt fine, really, but it's just too weird. I just can't help but think that that much sleep is unhealthy. Shouldn't be done. So I don't think I'll make a habit of it. You long sleepers may have the right idea, but it's just a little too freaky for me. You guys are living on the edge! I'm not that nuts, nossirree, not me. 2am, here I come.

Prairie is a stupid word

I mean really. How damn bizarre can a word spelling get. I know "bureaucracy" is pretty hardcore, but "prairie" has got to take the cake. Do you know how hard it is to write down the title "Little House on the Prairie" for your little girls when the goddamn prairie is spelled like that? Let me tell you, it's hard. I've got it spelled 8 different ways in 8 different places and I'm just hoping they never actually have to read it cause they're going to think their dad has lost his mind. They'll think I've got multiple personalities running around in my head changing my spelling. And they'll be right, because I went insane spelling prairie.

Oh, and one more thing. What the hell is a prairie anyway? Is it a field, a meadow, a plain?? If so, why isn't it Little House on the Meadow. Meadow is a nice word. I can spell it and I know what it is. Field, ditto. Hell, I could even do Little House on the Plateau. You see? I can spell plateau! And I know what one is. So fine, let's go with that, shall we? Miss Ingles, or her ghost, you don't mind if I change the name of one of your books to something a little more humanitarian, do you? Humanitarian as in it drives a few less humans insane? Little House on the Plateau? Great! I didn't think you'd mind. Thanks, half-pint.

The Cutest Piggy Banks In All The World

I saw this commercial while I was in England last week, and darned if these aren't the cutest piggies I've ever seen. I love the part at the end where they jostle for space in the window.

So...Much...Cleaning!

I have a friend coming to stay with me for a few days. We've never met before, because we were virtual colleagues, but we've kept in touch and I've really enjoyed her friendship.

Unfortunately for all concerned, I'm that kind of person. Meaning that when I have company I'm most comfortable if there's been some kind of effort made to make sure that the place doesn't look like:

1. A bomb hit it
2. Frat boys live here, spewing empty pizza boxes and beer bottles at regular intervals and leaving items to rot in the refrigerator until they either become science projects or actual college students
3. The home of someone who is about to be parted with his/her children by Family Services on grounds of not providing an appropriate home

When I'm left to my own devices, all of these types of entropy and more happen in fairly short order. Lately I've been fortunate enough that a specific human comes to my house once or twice a week, and that tends to keep things reasonable. I do things out of respect for this human that I wouldn't do for myself (like picking up most of the shoes that tend to congregate under the coffee table, and keeping the fridge clean and happy, and cleaning the bathrooms as though the ladies on "How Clean Is Your House? were invading with swabs to count bacteria). I don't know why I don't respect myself enough to do those things for me. I kind of wish I did, because I actually enjoy having the place clean. It is so exciting to be able to get up on a Saturday and just make tea or coffee without washing a tea/coffepot, a mug, a spoon, and a coffee/tea measuring device. Thrilling!

Unfortunately, the afore-mentioned human isn't around any longer, and so it's taken a couple of weeks to shake the place free from the entropy-gnomes. I have collapsed and recycled moving boxes. I have found homes for all that weird shit that needs a home (like the cords to every electrical device I've ever owned--hands up if you need another RCA cable! No, I thought not.). I have unearthed the guest room bed. I have purchased pillows to live inside the guest room bed's nice shams, and said shams have been ironed and stuffed and lovingly arranged on the actual guest room bed. I have purged my wardrobe of clothes that won't be worn again. I have found the surfaces of my desk, kitchen counters, and coffee table. I have vacuumed up some of the many, many, many colonies of spiderwebs.

(An aside. Did anyone ever notice that Charlotte's web never had a pile of carcasses under it all the time? Charlotte was one dainty spider. I think she hid the bodies to avoid freaking Wilbur out. My spiders aren't so particular. I think my own frat-boy mentality has been a corrupting influence. And let me just say that based on each spider's body count I'm in no hurry to evict any spiders, because I'd be overrun with other insects.)

At this point the guest could walk in and although there would be things that would bug me, it would all be copable. I'd just like to fix a few more things before she comes. Too bad work starts tomorrow...

Mmmmmm, W H Smith

I just got back from a business trip to the UK. It was fabulous, although I was rushed off my feet the entire time and didn't really have the opportunity to explore my surroundings as much as I would have liked. Still...

And God bless airport bookshops, because I picked up the latest Tony Hill/Carol Jordan book by Val McDermid. I forced myself to finish The Pale Blue eye first (I really do like Louis Bayard, but there's something compelling about a series with characters you've grown to love) and just finished it this morning before breakfast. That's the highest compliment I can pay a book, really--if it comes between me and my morning cuppa, that's high praise. Because honestly, if you're so excited to get to the end that you can't wait three minutes for a decent cup of tea or coffee? Well, you're hooked.

Now I'll be diving into the newest Kathy Reichs, also courtesy of WHS in LHR. Pausing briefly between books to note that I seem to have a cold (stupid airplanes) and to put breakfast and a cup of coffee within reach of the sofa...