Sleeping is my latest hobby: after all, sleep is where I am a Viking. Rather than conquer territories far and wide, I had the not-so-difficult task of eliminating one letter from the alphabet. The answer was evident to me: Z. The English language can do without this letter. My alarm went off as soon as I declared the elimination of the letter Z. How fitting: it interrupted my ZZZs. This was okay, as it was already 9am.
The drugs I’ve been on for two months now list “insomnia” as a possible side effect. Contrary to this, I have been extra-groggy. I had two naps following my alphabet-culling dream. I slept in until 9 again this morning, and the preceding dream was about packing up for a move. I was in an unfamiliar house: everything was a mess, and people were starting to move boxes even though I hadn’t finished packing up. It was a stressful dream that I was glad to wake up from.
I was surprised to find my roomie was still home. When I settled on the couch with my breakfast, he informed me he was heading out to work soon for a packing program for an upcoming kayak trip. This was an odd coincidence.
An online analysis of this dream says:
“Dreams about packing your personal items can signify that you’re headed down the right track. This positive interpretation suggests that you’re ready for long term shifts ahead and that you’re able to trust your own instinct knowing you’re making the right decision.”
Source? The first thing that came up when I Googled “interpretation of dreams packing”. I don’t believe in tarot readings, horoscopes, fortune cookies, nor clairvoyants. However, I welcome this kind of mumbo jumbo whenever I cannot generate my own positive thinking. I need some random Google result to cheer me on and tell me I’m doing well in life.
I’ve been doing well in gardening:
The radishes have thinned out since my last garden progression photo only because the roomie and I have been harvesting them. The spinach never caught up to the radishes, and I thought they were the first pest or disease victim. I sent my gardening mentor, Zoée, a photo of the concerned spinach leaf.
Their diagnosis was–and I’m paraphrasing’– “It’s just getting old. Spinach needs to be harvested frequently.”
Positive science-based news! I simply need to have a small spinach salad regularly. Or I need a leaf or two with my morning toast. Can one make tea with spinach leaves? Better yet, should I? Maybe it’s not the drugs that have made me groggy. My body is starved for iron.
I will confront my sluggishness tomorrow morning with a 6am group ride. So early. But I can do it. I can nap afterwards and whittle the day away, playing my latest game, Animal Crossing. I’ve explored Hyrule and surrounding suburbs so thoroughly that I needed a change of scenery. I’ll return to the Breath of Wild soon enough to free the remaining two Divine Beasts. For now, I can focus on developing Garbage Island. Cheeky, yet not vulgar. I shouldn’t have to worry about Nintendo’s censorship policy.
Daughter, sister, and worrier. Mother of zero. Lover of sleep.
