unwound

I think that cold I had a couple weeks ago, which turned into a nagging cough, has finally edged it's way towards bronchitis. In other words, I've got the sort of cough that leads folks to wonder whether I'm hiding a dog with laryngitis somewhere in my apartment. It's highly annoying, not to mention painful for my head and the bad bits of my right shoulder (pinched nerve, very ouch-y when violently shaken or tensed against said violent shaking). I cough when I speak, laugh, breathe, etc. Miserable, I tell you.

In other news... well, there's not much other news. I've been reading a lot, watching YouTube videos, sketching (poorly), writing a bit, and (oh thank God) sleeping more. I'm one of those who can't sleep when I'm ill, usually because if it involves my sinuses, things get all stuffy and I can't really breathe properly. That's led to a couple interesting drowning/suffocation dreams and many, many sleepless nights. And then there's the whole fact that I kind of hate sleeping, or really, I hate having to put down whatever I get started doing at night and go to bed. Once I'm actually in bed, it's rather nice. This all adds up to me suffering from a fairly constant sleep deficit.

So when I actually manage to force myself to get a full night's sleep, it always amazes me how good I feel the next morning. It's lovely, like fresh air and birdsong and, I dunno, sunshine, clean linens, all those things rolled up into one. You'd thing that the feeling alone would be enough to convince me to put down my book or pen or whatever and go to sleep, but no. Words and images and ideas are altogether too addicting.

In any case, I've been trying to set more reasonable bedtimes for myself lately. Midnight is my usual goal, and it seems to be mostly attainable, provided I'm home and into my "winding down" phase by about 11 p.m. Good time to catch up on my last bit of blogs and news and whatever, write a post of my own, listen to the radio a bit, whatever. Relax. And then sleep, which is where I shall head now.