Since I've been sick something fierce lately, a few days ago I decided it was time to make a visit to my doctor. I lurve my doctor - she's smart, personable, and I always feel like I'm in excellent hands whenever I ask questions or go in for a visit. My cold has clearly morphed into a much more sinister case of bronchitis, so she gave me antibiotics and cough syrup with codeine to help me sleep through the night.
Now, codeine is supposed to knock you the hell out. Like, floating-on-clouds, I'm-chillin'-in-a-meadow-with-some-unicorns-and-butterflies-and-I'm-going-to-take-a-nap-now, knocked the eff out. So I took a dose before bedtime, expecting happy cough suppressant rainbows to arrive any minute.
45 minutes later, my mind was racing. I was making lists. My lists were spawning baby lists. I wanted to get up! Sleep was for the weak and feeble, and I certainly wasn't one of them! I wanted to clean things! I wanted to scrub the stove top! I wanted to organize everything I own!
So there I was, hyper as all get-out when I was supposed to be sleeping. I bopped around like a kid who'd just eaten their weight in sugar. Clean! Organize! Make lists!
I organized the space underneath my sink.
I clipped and organized all my coupons, and then decided to store them in my wallet for easy access.
I made a menu and shopping list for Thanksgiving dinner.
And I didn't go to sleep until about 2 a.m. -- but on the upside, my apartment is cleaner and more organized than it's been in months.