Oh well.

.
.
I simply couldn't sleep.  Which means I couldn't wake.  I think I heard the phone.  I know I fumbled for it, but there was no there, there.  I don't think I ever found it, then it stopped ringing, then I lost any ability to keep looking for it.  It was sitting right beside my bed.  It's a simple matter of reaching over and picking it up.  In certain stages of sleep, though, that isn't... possible.  Especially when pushing sleep to a minimum and wakefulness too much.  I did answer the phone, after the third ring, at about 14:30.  My friend was not happy.  Something about "If I have other things to do...", and not at all happily.  No, I understand.  I just can't sleep.  Tomorrow, he suggested.  Gah!  I'll try, I just don't know.

I'm still not awake or well.  But!  I have been taking all of medication pretty well since I realized I was slipping.  Falling from the heavens to earth, trying to figure out buttons on a phone, while half asleep, in the dark, then hit by blinding light, with wind and no solid ground to be had for money or love.  Bah.  I'll make it around, soon enough.

And, no, I didn't get to the spray painting.  I'm not that awake.  Take away the headache and nausea, and it feels like a hangover.  Nope, didn't touch a drop.  I just can't get to sleep, then I can't wake up, and it is all stretching in the wrong direction.  Bleh.

Later.