But Call Me Betsy

This morning, I started reading Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout, which I bought for a mere $2 at the Princeton Library (they have the best on-going book sale. Also got The Falls by JCO , coincidentally. And Joyce teaches in Princeton and lives down the street from Dan. Do you think she would mind if I just happened by her place? She has a story called "My Madman" about an academic who gets threatened in the elevator by an wiry, unhinged graduate student. I bet it's based on something she has experienced). Anyway, I already love this book. Maybe I am predisposed to love it because on the cover, it states, "Winner of the Pulitzer Prize," but I do think it's well-written. Have only read part of the first chapter, but I like it already. You should read it. Had that super transparent insecurity dream last night where I'm in a play but don't know any of the lines and haven't rehearsed. I think, in this one, I wasn't actually going onstage, ...

So, I did take a couple of the Tylenol-3's, just because, you know, I had them. I don't think I slept at all, the whole night. I sort of drifted in and out of consciousness and would have these startling moments where I would jerk awake in that way that feels like you've just been dropped from a ledge onto a mattress. Lots of vivid dreams/hallucinations, mostly about vampires, for some reason. Maybe because of all of the blood. In the morning, I flushed the rest of the Tylenol down the toilet to prevent myself from become an addict and showing up on the new season of Intervention . I don't know that I could ever get addicted to painkillers; they make me move too slow and don't knock me out. I have had the same experience every time I take Nyquil. It makes me feel like I'm floating on this endless raft between cognizance and sleep, very unsatisfying and weird and you end up sleeping in these weird positions but not realizing it until one half of your body has gon...