Around 5:20 this morning I thought I was going to lose the breakfast I didn’t eat this morning.
Sunday night was fine. I got about six hours of sleep and felt fantastic during work the next morning, but Monday night was a personal low for me. I got only three hours. I’m filling in on the anchor desk during the mornings while the male anchor, Andrew Douglas, fills in for the evening shows.
My plan was to stay awake until 8 p.m., but I couldn’t make it past 6:30. I started nodding off sitting up in a chair and mumbling to my mom on the phone. I eventually hung up on her when she wouldn’t let me get off the phone to snooze. My sleep was hard and good. I remember my cat, Bridget, putting her behind in my face and I didn’t budge.
Around 10:30 I was awake again and was nice and sleepy, but I was on the couch and thought I’d get in the bed in an effort to have better sleep. WRONG.
I never went to sleep, instead roamed around my apartment in a state of depression knowing 2:45 was getting closer and closer.
I bought new apps for my i-phone, ate an apple since I was absolutely ravenous, read some, sat on my porch in the dark. When I got cold I got back on the couch and finally felt like I could doze off, but at that point I only had 25 minutes left to sleep.
The good news is I got through the news that begins at 4:30 a.m. From what I watched I never looked uphappy, super tired or grumpy. No doubt in time I could really get the hang of this and come to actually enjoy the routine. It’s in no way happening soon, but I’d love a family one day. A morning shift job seems the best way to seemingly have it all.
Now it’s 4 pm. I would normally be anchoring the news, but instead I’m on the couch about to watch a documentary about prohibition. May it help me drift away.