Superwoman

I am running on two hours' sleep, a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of coffee. And adrenaline, one assumes.

What is it about total exhaustion and a little caffeine that makes a person think she can conquer the world? I should be trying to squeeze in another couple of hours' sleep.

Instead, I am:

1. Contemplating getting out the sewing machine (talk me down! I can barely operate the blasted thing when I'm fully rested!)
2. Looking at the recipe for the soup we're going to have for dinner tonight (because I should totally cook that now, right? And reheat it later? That makes so much sense)
3. Thinking I should practice the guitar. And the ukulele. I can play "Let it Be" on the uke, you know. Over the weekend I heard a song that I thought I should try to figure out on the guitar, but I'm damned if I can remember now what it was.
4. Composing the pivotal scene of my midlife-crisis novel in my head, and should be writing it down, but I this is being hampered by
5. Writing a blog post about sleep?? I don't need no stinkin' sleep, I am going to solve all the world's problems right now, give me another cup of coffee and get out of the way. Because I also have the news on, and the world needs my warped sense of awesomeness right now to fix it.

With any luck I will pass out, drooling lightly with a cat draped about my person, on the couch before I decide I should call the President and offer my diplomatic services. And also before I get out the sewing machine.