I’ve become something of an insomniac since coming back. Well, maybe not an insomniac, but let’s be real, I haven’t had this much trouble falling asleep since Scotland. And Scotland was a long freaking time ago.
To combat it, I’ve been trying to lull myself to sleep with copious amounts of morphine–READ: Grey’s Anatomy–and large doses of tossing and turning. How’s that working? Well, it’s 2:36 EST right now and I just finished the last season an hour ago. You tell me. Shonda Rhimes just killed off Lexie Gray and I can’t help wondering when these poor characters are going to catch a break, when at least one set of the couples will be contentedly happy, and someone will quit intentionally screwing their lives up. I mean, doesn’t everyone know that they’re supposed to be at Seattle Grace by now? Doesn’t Christina know she’s made for Owen? Or, until a few minutes ago, that Mark and Lexie are meant to be? Hasn’t Meredith decided to be general surgeon and stop messing with stupid clinical trials? Will Avery just pick April already? And Karev… jeez… let’s not even touch that train wreck. Hopkins? REALLY?
This is one of those times when I’m writing about nothing, just for the sake of writing, just because it soothes my spirit to be putting these things down on “paper.” Forgive me if I’m not particularly motivational or spiritual or re-entry-al. Right now, I just want to sleep.
It’s a “take with water” kind of post, you know? One of those that will never show up on my Facebook wall or Twitter for the mere fact that there’s nothing of value to be found here… a post that is mostly, primarily for me and my own mental health. It doesn’t tell a story or have a message. It doesn’t reveal some great truth.
It’s just Heather, writing to write, because more and more that’s become the one item on my epic to-do list that I can’t ignore, and the one that scares me the most.
Which means I probably need to be doing a hell of a lot more of it than I am.
Until another early morning blog-rant-extravaganza…