9:45 p.m. On A Wednesday

I try to stick to a 10 p.m. bedtime, but right now, my mind is telling me I haven’t been able to fall asleep before 11:30 all week, so what’s the rush?

And I’m thinking about everything I didn’t get done today, and how Aldi had crappy produce today so I didn’t get half of my groceries I need for the week, and how my list of things to do isn’t as important as the time I took to chat with some friends at different points in my day.
I’m thinking of my incredibly charmed life, of the creature comforts that I take for granted way too often, and how random life is.
I’m thinking of how exhausted I am, and how I won’t be able to sleep late and laze around in bed until January 31, and remembering that I have a lot of piano to practice, a book to finish, a presentation to prepare, and the day-to-day grind of teaching.
I’m thinking about how I cope (escape via TV and movies), and how I should’ve gone to the gym tonight but I was practicing the piano and planning tomorrow, and though my eyes are heavy with fatigue at 9:56 p.m., I know as soon as I get into bed, all of these thoughts and worries will pry open my eyes and keep them that way until just before midnight, so I might as well take a stack of papers with me to bed.
But there’s always the hope of tomorrow.

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