Things to do, no time for sleep.

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Then again, in spite of my trouble with sleep, I can stay up.  I have packages arriving today.  But that isn't all of it.  I am also planning to get to town.  I need to buy more cat food, dry, but I will pick up more wet as well.  Two bags of dry will last me as long as 12 or 15 boxes of cans.  And, really, I ought to start getting an extra bag when I do buy, for storage.  I ought to get milk, hamburger, and soda too.  I haven't been keeping up on coffee like I should like.  But I need milk for that.  Ah, what a mess sometimes.  As well, gravel must be obtained and a space beneath the pipes needs to be dug.  That is minor work, I really think I can do this.  When I finally get to sleep... well...  It doesn't matter.  Sleep has been rather wretched.  Whether I go to sleep on time, stay up really late, or even go to bed early.  It doesn't even matter if I sleep long, just right, or short.  So... fuck it.

I won't have to do laundry before I do my stuff today.  But... that is the end of that.  I HAVE to do laundry tomorrow if I want to wear underwear or socks.  I have several pair of slacks, some shirts (but no t-shirts), and other things to wear.  I might even have a few pair of shorts here or there that might sort of work.  But for the most part, I am out of 100% of underwear that I would normally wear (just some long-johns available) and 70% of the rest is needing washed.

Oh, I'm having some water problems.  My toilet, bathroom sink, and shower work fine.  My extra sink in the back of the house, and everything else I know of works fine.  But my kitchen sink is just allowing a trickle out.  I ran it a while, 20 minutes, in case there was simply some sort of air blockage.  Nope.  Now, I have my reverse osmosis system under there, but looking at the pipes, that is merely split off from the main pipes going into the sink with a t-intersect, so it shouldn't be impeding that flow at all.  I'll... figure it out.

My mother called today.  She was zoned, she had just gotten back from her foot surgery.  Yeah, okay.  All good.  I had certainly been worried.  As long as there was a reason, I was fine.  If not... something would have to be done, or the situation watched.  She is, regardless of what the medical world my wish, healthy and happy.  Well, as happy as a woman can be at times.  *chuckles*  She has a lot of life left in her.  Straight up she has about as much life in her as I do in me.  I've got the youth but she has the health and that whole female thing.  I'm racing her to the grave, but neither of us is going all that fast, for our own different reasons.  I suspect it will take us a good fifteen to twenty years.  Even then, one or both of us might even stretch that by a goodly lot.  Assuming neither of us is hit by a meteor, struck by lightning, or run over by a burning Chevy Volt.  Both of us have the 'oddest' luck.  And if I were about to have a massive stroke, a smoking Chevy Volt strike seems preferable, no?  And, that is how my "luck" works.  It's pretty good for being pretty bad.  *grins*

One last thing, about dreams.  Last night I dreamed I was back in my foster home.  My foster mother admitted to me, though out of anger not in a sharing way, something I had never suspected in real life, but now think was true.  She was always a bit sore that I was... slow.  The analogy of lining me up with the corner of a building to see if I was moving, I think, was her baby.  Anyway, she told me in the dream that it made her so mad, and the only person she had known that was worse was... her eldest son.  Thinking back on that, I actually think it might be true.  But what I didn't tell her, nor would her son have told her, but the reason we moved slowly was in part because she expected too much.  As well, she expected the wrong things and or at the wrong times.  She expected me, at least, to be right on top of things.  I was doing school, taking serious prep courses.  I was in atheletics every season as well.  And, my guess is, I was already having more minor heart problems.  As I said, I think I was hit once, in my earlier teens to late preteens, with a mild dose of a viral attack on my heart.  It wasn't until I was in the Navy that I got hit with the actual debilitating level of it.  And she was a battle-axe when and how she wanted something done.  Yeah, I love her, still do.  Moms, what can you do with them though, sometimes?  Bleh.

Later, or maybe good... night?  Yeah.  At least, this may be my last post.  If I pull it all off, then need to chill before sleeping, I may bring my bragging rights worth of work here and, well, brag.  Or just crash, we will see.  Later or goodnight..