It’s official: my bodyclock and I are at war

10 Oct

I freelance occasionally in my increasingly spare time. Generally the odd writing job for a few clients I’ve built a relationship with over the past few years. So, when the money Gods heard my call of woe over budgeting deficiencies and holiday needs, I was suddenly swamped with work. Big, tricky, complicated work where the confusion drips like treacle from the keyboard.

So I now work from 8-5 in my day job and from about 9:30pm – 2am doing freelance stuff. Where’s all that sleeping occuring? It’s not. I drift off at 2:30am. But now, it’s impossible to sleep at a normal time and I find myself keeping the most unsociable of hours. Knowing my body clock like a nemesis, it will now be resolute in its routine for some time.

This, people, is the look of fatigue from spending nights in bed crouched over a laptop. The look of clumsily pawing at the snooze button and stealing an extra 20-30 minutes of extra sleep. It’s also the look of someone who could possibly get more sleep if she stopped procrastinating with her blog instead of populating content from a sparse and dryly composed specification.

Considering my dire need for concealer in that photo and apropos of nothing, here is a picture of the Patron Saint of the Perfect Man, Jack Kerouac:
A man in love with music, words, beauty, irresponsibility and attention deficit disorder. In short, perfect.

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