When I was a kid, my mom said I always got “sick” the day after staying up too late. I’ve been awake far too late for the past few nights, and it’s resulting in a strange form of… Oh, what’s the word? What was I even saying?
You know that feeling after you’ve had a dream? In the dream, you’ve had the greatest idea. It’s going to change the world. Then you wake up, and — poof — it’s gone. All that’s left is the lingering dismay of having lost something important. It’s so close, you can almost reach it…but, no. That’s how it’s been today with my writing. And it’s not just that a brilliant idea is gone by the time I get to my computer; I’ll be in the middle of typing a sentence and forget how it ends. Completing it based on context? No. Nuh uh. GONE.
I’ll get some sleep tonight and see if it improves my memory, but I’m not liking this sneak preview of how I’ll be when I’m a little old lady. Will it help or impede my goal of becoming a bats#*t crazy old broad wearing mumus, turbans made of tablecloths, and feather boas as I feed my eight hundred cats their dinner of oatmeal-liverwurst cookies? Heavens to hefalumps! I might forget to add the liverwurst.