Several unpleasant things happen when you’re severely deprived of sleep – or at least these are the ones by which I’m afflicted today.
I become unable to speak clearly or correctly, I crave carbohydrates since they’re the simplest and easiest for the body to digest and are what the brain wants when it lacks other basics, my eyelids twitch, my equilibrium is off, I’m superbly irritable and sensitive to light and sound, and I get the chills and shivers. Time for some hot tea and today’s Netflix arrival – “Dark City.”
It’s raining, I just changed my sheets to my winter flannel knit ones, and bed should be divinely cozy.
One story… or is it two? I can’t remember. Um. Well, one thing was that an elderly woman with horribly dry bleached hair (looked like blonde Brillo pad) on the train spent the entire ride talking to her apparently ancient mother (judging by the age of the daughter and assuming the mother was 18 or 19 when she gave birth to her… 90-something?)
At every train station on the way, this woman would inform her mother via cell phone, in a very loud Jersey voice, “Ma – I just passed Bay Street… Ma – I just passed Glen Ridge…” etc. THEN, she was so busy telling her about how nice the new upholstery in the train was that she missed her stop. When she noticed that something felt wrong, she stood up from her seat with the cell phone still glued to her cheek and said, to no one in particular and obviously knowing the answer herself since the train has an electronic sign that displays the next stop, “What was that stop? Was it Walnut Street? Was it?” I think everyone ignored her except for a man who’d just gotten on at Walnut Street and didn’t know any better.
The next five minutes consisted of this woman complaining about missing the stop and how she didn’t hear the announcement, “I don’t think they made one, Ma!” Then she decided she was going to call her husband from the station near his work. Crisis was averted and she switched gears to complaining about some town Christmas concert for which she reserved tickets but never picked them up. Since she didn’t pick them up, they sold them to someone else and all she got were general admission tickets and she was bitching that they don’t guarantee seating and her husband can’t stand with his bad knee and blah blah blah. She was making me even more nauseated, so I was glad when my stop came, I got off and she kept going.
That’s today’s little taste of Jersey.