There is an order to things. Gravity drags apples from trees and hurls them bodily at innocent proto-physicists who lay sleeping off mid-day mead. Sunshine blazes through scattered droplets of life-giving water and causes the easily amused and the hopeful to see pretty streams of light, and other physicists to poo-poo the sentimentality of accidental, trivial effects of natural laws.
And I have a beard, dammit!
Since removing my chinlocks, I’ve been fighting back a concussive wave of coughing, a explosion of sneezing, and a sleigh-load of sleeplessness. I find myself caught between natural difficulty in sleeping due to an over-active mind and the annoyance of ballistic phlegm dislodged by horizontal orientation. In plainer words, no night for two weeks has given me a continuous rest of more than 5 hours in length, and most nights have given me a total of no more than 6.
I have within me, the genes of bears. Or at least, it’s long been suspected. When I slumber, I do it long and deep, oblivious to whatever maelstrom might be hovering inches above my face. And I need to cease conscious existence for long periods, although I can, if pressed, remain awake and active for impressive amounts of time.
Perhaps it’s stress. Continue reading →