Sleep is just a state of mind

Ever have those nights where you lay in bed for an hour, eyes closed, wrapped up in your blanket and instead of sleep you're thinking crazy thoughts? Thoughts about zombies, petticoats, hotel rooms, Road trips, candy, Cheesecake and more zombies?

This is why my brain is like. I lay down and my train of thought makes no sense. None. Not to me, not to anyone else.

"Hmm, I wonder if I'd be smited if I walked into a church, dropped trou and yelled 'Covet this, bitches!' it seems like something one would be smited for. is smited a word? it has to be, what would the past tense of smite be? I smite, he smites, she smited. Right? Of course I'm right, it's grammar. But then again the to's still confuse me. and apostrophes. I wonder how you say apostrophe in German. I wonder if it's as cool of a word as exclamation point is."

Oh, but this is just the beginning of the insanity that happens in my head. I made a list, of things to do in England. While trying to sleep. I will now share.

1.) Buy lots and lots of petticoats and wander around that area of really old buildings in the city pretending I'm in a historical romance novel. (Note to self: Try to swoon at least once.)
2.) Convince the English that is the THHHHHHAMES because TH makes a THHHHH sound.
3.) In regards to number one, get really drunk and go to a public place and slap a man while insisting he "compromised me" and then run away. Might be difficult in petticoats. Will have to practice.

There was more, but I can't remember it now. Because I'm insane. That's pretty much the basics of the list though, crazy shit that makes little to no sense. Love it. But the rambling of the brain, it needs to stop. I'll be having a lovely thought about cheesecake or some crazy meal I tried cooking and BAM APARTMENT ON FIRE.


Seriously guys, the water was on fire. Talk about a mind fuck.

"Shit, shit, waters on fire. Water is on fire. OPEN.YOUR.EYES. WOMAN. Oh. Ok. I'm awake. I'm completely awake. In america, there is no water on fire. Right? Right. Wtf, cat, shut up. Oh thats not the cat, thats my stomach. Mmm stomach. Mmm stomach? Oh Ok, now we're digesting ourselves, thats cool. Thanks for the memo nervous system, could have warned me a bit earlier that I was hungry. Like before I laid down to sleep. Although I'm failing. You know what else I'll fail at? Probably cleaning out my car, but if my car was chitty chitty bang bang I could just fly that sucker above the dump, twist it sideways and let all the crap in it fall to the ground. Now that would be pretty fucking sweet. I wonder if an empty diet coke can could kill someone if dropped from high enough. I wonder where the city dump is in relation to this house. Hmm. "

Now I know this is all nerves. I'm stressed, I'm excited, I'm nervous. I can't wait, I'm thrilled, I'm terrified. etc etc. But seriously, do I have to be fucking exhausted to sleep at night? Because this whole "sleeping when I'm on the verge of death" thing isn't cutting it. I'm tired, I need sleep. But apparently my brain would rather have me mentally wander around a (No lie) department store in my mind yelling at the Make up counter lady because I can't return the makeup I bought because I lost my debit card.

Yeah, I'm pretty fucked up. Oh and then I laid there thinking about mac n' cheese for a while pondering the perfect bachemel sauce. And what kind of cheese would make the perfect grilled cheese. And then cheetos, and how the flamin' hot ones are disgusting. And then I laid there going over my nicknames and finally after I started thinking about smurfs and what would happen if a group of smurfs came upon a midget, I got up and declared myself a failure at sleep.

So I'm awake. At 6:30 am because I, yet again, can not shut my fucking brain up. And this, people, is why I drink until I'm too drunk to have a conscious thought. Because if I didn't, I'd never get any fucking sleep.

Ps. Kidding about the drinking thing.
pps. Where does one pick up petticoats?

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