Happy 2-week anniversary to me

Today is the 2-week anniversary of the last time I slept. No joke. The most sleep I've gotten in a single night in the last 14 days is about two hours. Most nights it's no sleep at all -- just me laying perfectly still, trying not to count my heartbeats or think about work or wonder why I'm not sleeping. As a result (I think it's a result of insomnia...I hope it is), I've been experiencing vertigo and a loss of depth perception. My kitchen floor is covered in tiny shards of glass from all of the drinking glasses that I've tried setting on the counter. You know how insidious broken glass is...you think you've cleaned it all up, but then, what do you know, you slice off your little toe.

Monday night Traveling Man gave me a call. I leapt at the chance to meet him at the lovely Hampton Inn, his preferred hotel, and not just because of the potential for booty. Honestly, my first thought was, "A different bed! Maybe that's what I need to sleep!" I was relieved when I got to his room and found him all drowsy and already underneath the covers. Sweet! No sex!

I crawled into bed and he was all warm, which was nice. For a few moments, I was excited -- maybe this would be THE night. I was in a new bed in a different room with a (somewhat) familiar sleeping partner -- how could I not sleep?

The Hampton Inn, lovely as it is, has very obnoxious room fresheners in its rooms. These bizarre devices noisily release an unidentifiable scent every 15 minutes. I can't explain why any hotel would put loud air fresheners in its rooms any more than I can explain why a manufacturer would produce loud air fresheners in the first place. All I know is that I spent the next six hours thinking that each "scent release" was the final one, only to be abruptly disturbed minutes later.

My agitation was such that Traveling Man moved to the other bed in the room. I toss and turn a lot when I'm sleeping soundly; I can't imagine what it's like to sleep next to me when I'm fully conscious and completely annoyed.

So, the new bed plus warm bed buddy didn't work. This sleeplessness is, not surprisingly, affecting my ability to concentrate at work -- or at anything; I've been trying to write a Lepidoptera Lady post for the last two hours, but I just can't get my thoughts to gel.

Now, you know I'm in bad shape when I can't write about butterflies and I don't want to have sex.

I'm going to the doctor on Monday, mainly just to find out if the insomnia is the symptom of something other than stress. I have mixed feelings about getting any drugs. Traveling Man pointed out that since I already have vertigo, I don't really need any other drugs. I can make the world spin all on my own, thank you.

I would give anything to sleep again, but I don't want to be getting used to sleeping pills right before my Montana interview next week. Then again, I don't want to be nodding off during my interview either. Although that would make for a great post.

"Dude, one moment I was talking about my experience developing youth programs; the next moment I was passed out, drooling on Meriwether Lewis' journal. They made me buy it."