Also, I’m home. Yay, New Jersey. My flight was almost an hour early, thanks to an 80-100 mph tail wind. And the plane was practically empty - also nice. I had my nice window seat with no one next to me and no one kicking the seat behind me or leaning back in the seat in front of me. Heavenly.

I am tired. Physically and mentally. I have to go to work tomorrow and am debating driving in so I can give myself an extra hour of sleep… or just leaving on the early train since I don’t know how many hours of legitimate productivity I’ll be able to handle. Sigh.

The best thing about this week will be a four-day weekend. I shall be taking my compensatory days on Thursday and Friday. Delicious. There’s plenty to do, but at least I’ll be doing what I WANT to do.

Crap. I don’t think I have any clean “work” clothes for tomorrow. Hrm. If I can locate a skirt and tights, I’ll be all set for the 49 degree rainy weather tomorrow. I need some tall boots, yes I do.

There is light rain here. I am glad.

I haven’t had a headache this bad in over two years. I am calling it a night nice and early and hoping that the drugs kick in and let me get some sleep.

It’s been a month since I’ve been able to sleep in my own bed. It’s right here - and although I’ve removed the plastic sheets, boxes and chunks of plaster from it, I can’t sleep in it yet since it’s in the middle of the floor, surrounded by towers of boxes and bags that were thrown there haphazardly by people other than me.

I’m unbelievably tired. I’m cranky. I want my comfy bed and a good night’s sleep.

Once I spend some time with friends tomorrow morning to a) play some tennis and get some damn exercise and b) so that I feel happy, I’ll get to return to this.

My only consolation is that in having to go through every item that I own, I’ve been able to start weeding out things I know I won’t need when I move or that I haven’t touched in years. I’ve found letters and cards and objects that made me smile, and others that I just shoved in the paper shredder without reopening them because I could remember quite vividly what was inside and have no wish to relive it. I found my early admission letter from NYU. I found a birthday card from a friend I haven’t spoken to in almost 10 years. I found an old journal; I don’t know whether to tear offending pages from it or to throw it out entirely.

I’m trying to view this as chance to separate the wheat from the chaff in terms of personal belongings so that I might not have quite as much to deal with when getting settled into a new place. Hopefully soon. Hopefully before Thanksgiving.

Right now, though, my eyes hurt, my head hurts, my back hurts, my legs hurt, my feet hurt, my toenails hurt, and my left wrist is sort of throbbing. It’s only 10:15 and I could get some more cleaning done… but screw this. I’m done with today and with this week. Even if I can’t sleep comfortably, some sleep is better than no sleep.

My goal for tomorrow: a night of quality sleep in my own bed. Even if that means I have to work at it until 3 in the morning. I can take advantage of coffee’s speed-like effect upon me. Yep. That’s the plan.

Repair work is being done on my ceiling, so for the last two weeks, everything I own has been sheathed in plastic and inaccessible - including my bed, my computer, my clothes (save what’s in a laundry bag that I tote around with me) and my books. I’ve been hijacking computers from family members, etc., but it’s really beginning to get to me - sleeping in a guest room, living out of laundry bags? It’s a bit disruptive and certainly doesn’t help me cope with my pre-existing stress and being on the verge of a depressive episode.

The physical signs, such as they are, are appearing already: I have been going to bed at 10… far too early. I’ve been waking up at 6:00. Again, far too early. Despite all the sleep I’m getting, I have no energy. I have little appetite. My stomach is constantly in a state of mild upset. I am Little Miss Cranky Pants. I have pain in my shoulders and back (that’s where my stress lives). I’m having moments of logorrhea where my mouth keeps going, despite my brain’s awareness that I should just shut up already (trust me, while this is close to my normal state, it’s not always this bad).

I really just want to return to my regularly scheduled programming.

For depression (as for most mental illnesses and conditions) having a regular routine is highly beneficial. I’ve learned this somewhat recently (over the last 12 months). My routine has been severely disrupted this past month and I am feeling it keenly. I’m trying to create a new one (since the old one is currently fractured beyond repair) but that takes time. And that’s disheartening and frustrating.

Ah, well. It’s 8:05. Time to leave for work.

But the rain in NJ does a smashing job of beading up on my clear umbrella.

The thunder isn’t bad either. I’m entertaining the idea of going to bed at a disruptively early hour (now) since I’ve been sleep deprived for far too many weeks now and beginning to feel it more keenly than usual.

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