Can't sleep

Many of my friends and family complain about not being able to sleep. I don't have that problem. Scratch that. I don't usually have that problem, being blessed with the ability to fall asleep anywhere at any time, most while watching television or reading a book lying down. I don't need drugs, those television and books work just fine. Granted, I did go to bed early and fell asleep reading an article in The Writer and I woke up because of a very full bladder, but I don't feel like sleeping and I know from experience that sleeping is now out of the question. I don't get that feeling often, but when it surfaces... On the plus side, I did get about five hours of sleep and caught up on sending out review links to authors, so that is something.

Maybe that's the problem. I have writing and work on my mind, especially since I've been asked to write an article and teach a class on reviewing books, something I have done professionally for one company for 3.5 years. Maybe there's a book in there, maybe not. I have enough on my plate right now and don't have another clear spot anywhere...and yet there is a part of me that would love to earn a little more money teaching what I know.

That's something else that is on my mind. While talking to Lynn last night I learned that my BA in English could lead to substitute teaching and that I don't need a Master's degree or Ph.D. I probably would have to get a teaching certificate, but I have the credentials to sub for $100 a day, average. It would be a nice way to supplement my income but it would also mean buying clothes to wear to work and actually leaving the house to work, neither of which is tempting in any way, shape or fashion. Over the years I have gotten used to working in whatever I felt like wearing -- or not wearing -- and not having someone breathe down my neck or make me conform to more than basic work rules. I like having some autonomy and freedom with a regular paycheck, and I save money on gas and clothing and makeup and any number of items to repair and maintain on my car, which I currently drive about once a week just to keep in practice and give the car a workout. There are worse ways to make a living. I could be working for Wal-Mart like Dad.

And that's another thing on my mind: Dad. I called him last night to let him know I talked to Beanie. After telling him they were in Iowa when I last spoke to Beanie, I asked how he was managing with Mom and about how she acted when they traveled together. I got a shock. She talks incessantly and won't shut up between bouts of rummaging through her purse and bags, both problems Beanie mentioned when she said Mom might not make it here since she would be dead, killed by either her or Carol. Dad mentioned the bad word: Alzheimer's. There is a family history. Relatives on both sides of Mom's family had it. She's terrified of it. She may well have it. I keep chalking up the short temper, bursts of forgetfulness and rambling in the middle of a conversation to hardening of the arteries in the brain or just getting old, but in the back of my mind I hear, "It's Alzheimer's." I'll have a chance to see first hand and suggest some tests when she gets home, that is if she goes home.

Dad said he was having a fine time with Mom gone. It's quiet and she's not nagging or yelling at him while he's watching television or reading the paper. I do see his point, but if this is a sneaky way of dumping her on my doorstep in the middle of the night and making off like sneak thieves and bandits, it ain't gonna work. We discussed this before. She lives in Ohio near her three loving children and not here in Colorado. Suddenly I'm worried. Maybe that's why Beanie caved in and let her come along on the trip. They are planning to dump her here. Don't they know Colorado has laws about dumping? Well, I will just have to educate them.

That's it. I won't be able to sleep until they are gone -- preferably with Mom in tow. I don't care how much she talks or how often she roots and rummages through her purse and bags. I have the law on my side. She has to go home.

And I thought Beanie and I were close, that she loved me. Well, we'll just see about that.

That is all. Disperse.