One step closer to the weekend; one more night of garbage sleep.

Ugh. This whatever this is (not COVID again, thankfully), it’s really making it difficult to sleep. Every night, within about an hour of going to bed, my nose plugs completely, ensuring that every time I drift off, I’ll choke on my own inability to draw breath anywhere except through my mouth.

That results in wild snoring, which keeps both me and my wife up (that’s right, I’m waking myself up).

The NyQuil doesn’t help. It’s congested up so high in my noise that no Kleenex can unblock it, and no amount of blowing does anything but pop my ears.

But it’s fine all day.

Go figure.

Here’s hoping this mini-nightmare breaks soon.

I have shit to do and sleep to have.

For those that say, I’ll sleep when I’m dead, fuck you. I’d rather sleep now. Batteries need charging. Heads need to stop pounding. Bodies need to ache less. Recharging is nothing if not a wonder, and ignoring that is pure folly.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1615 words, novel: Father Lightning