I�m to the point where I�m waking up at 8:40, the time I have to leave the house to get to work by nine. I�ve strolled in at 9:15 each day (sans the contacts) and vowed to get to sleep earlier. In all seriousness though, sleep just isn�t coming until after 2 o�clock.

Argh.

Each weekday I seem to have something going on. Mondays is the running group. Tuesdays are for volleyball. Wednesdays are either the running group or my rollerblading group. After keeping up with that and still making it to the gym each day, I�ve deemed Thursday my official sit-on-my-ass day.

And although I neither made it to the gym nor to any of my regularly scheduled events, I took full advantage of my SOMA Thursday.

I finished reading The World According to Garp (and I�ll say right now that John Irving seems to be a wee bit of a misogynistic mule, despite how his blurb after the story was all about a father�s fears... Come on -- the husband fucks whores and babysitters and lusts after the drunken neighbor without much recourse [he gets VD when he�s 18]; but when his wife is unfaithful, the injuries include a broken jaw, a broken shoulder, a lost eye, the death of her youngest child, and the loss of 3/4ths of someone�s penis. Yeah...), and started Martha Brokenbrough�s It Could Happen to You.

With Ming all up in my stuff, I took to the bathroom and filled the tub with the hottest water I could stand and some lavender oil. Am I the only person who has a difficult time staying in the tub for more than 20 minutes? However, I forced myself to stay in as I finished the last 150 pages of Garp.

With the water now lukewarm and my skin sufficiently pruned (not my hands, mind you -- those stay dry while I�m holding a book), I ran the epilator over the legs and went to bed.

Tossing and turning and getting lost in thought, who knows when I finally got my eyes shut and my brain settled.

This morning�s alarm started at 7:14, and I happily stayed in my bed snooze alarm after snooze alarm after snooze alarm. I dreamt (dreamed?) that I put on my make up and was picking out clothes when I saw that it was now 8:20. I dragged my ass outta bed, found my glasses (knowing that contacts weren't going in my sleepy eyes), and got ready quite quickly.

I made it into my empty office, only to be met with a disturbing scene: someone had obviously been at my desk at some point between 5:15 the evening before and 9:00 that morning.

My calendar was off the wall, lying on the opposite side of my desk.

My phone was moved two feet from its original location.

My voicemail guide is pinned to a different wall.

The overturned recycling bin that I rest my feet on was turned right side up and moved.

My lotion�s pump was set to its locked position.

There are no signs of foul play, as my desk gnome is resting happily, unmoved from his position on my shelf. I hope he sufficiently scared the stuff-moving offender. At least my network cable wasn�t stolen.

All right. I�ve gotta get back to work. You can bet that I�ve got my eyes peeled for the subversive elements in my workplace. �