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April 18th, 2003

To sleep, or not to sleep: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The strains and stretches of 8 a.m. yoga,
Or to wait for the meds doc to phone at 9:30,
And by waiting end the Wellbutrin? To go to bed;
To sleep; and by a sleep to say we end
The itching and the thousand freaky journal entries
My friends list is heir to, 'tis a merciful act
Devoutly to be wish'd. To sleep with hubby;
To sleep: perchance to miss the meds doc's phone call:
Ay, there's the rub; for in that sleep with hubby,
When I have dropped upon the floor these random clothes,
And gotten naked: there's the unconsciousness
That makes me deaf to all prospective phone calls;
For who would hear the ringing of the phone,
The doctor's call, the husband's cuddliness,
The itch of side-effects, the time to take my meds,
The insolence of cats who climb upon us
And meow in our most grumpy ears,
When we ourselves might scary noises make
With our bare bodkins? Who would kitties bear,
To knead and yowl over our weary selves,
But that the dread of causing kitty deaths,
The tempting crime each morning from whose dream
No cat owner returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those cats we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the thought of going out to breakfast
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And thoughts about yoga and meds doc phone calls
With this regard my brunching thoughts deny,
And lose the taste of omelettes.--Soft you now!
The fair Cobweb and Munchkin! Kitties, in thy orisons
Be all my sleepless nights remember'd.

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