I’m so pissed and frustrated right now. I’m in my 50s yet I’m STILL fighting for the right to sleep. I haven’t slept this bad since apartment life. If there are any two subjects, two patterns, that are evident in my life to make me think there is something up there planning and cursing me, it’s lust and sleep.

I crashed last night around 5 PM, then at 9:30 that fucking car woke me up. At least I’m pretty sure it was that car. The fucking thing typically takes off around lunchtime and then again in the evening. I got a good look at the driver again - a scrawny smoker with a dark beard and mustache – and I still say they look too young to live here. Both car and driver just don’t smack of retirement stuff, but they also don’t smack of caregiver either. Yet they’ve been here for months, so unless they’re caring for an aging parent, I’ll likely be stuck having to listen to this vehicle for years just like with the people across from Bob and Virginia, though that’s not nearly as loud and they don’t go out twice a day or more.

There are numerous vehicles these days that are thunderously loud and wake me up, but I think that’s the main culprit of the vehicles lately. Too pissed to fall back asleep right away, I took a Tylenol PM and fell back asleep about an hour later, maybe a little more. Then I woke up for no reason at 3:30, whined to Tom and minute or two, and then fell back asleep until 6:30.

I awoke groggy and totally out of it. Tom stressed the need for me to take the day to do nothing at all, and this time I gladly took his advice and did just that… nothing. The only thing I did was freshen up, apply my steroid gel, and dump some trash. I gathered the On This Day entries that I’ve been emailing Tom each day, along with a scenic picture as I normally include, but spent almost all day in bed listening to the near dozen or so ferociously loud vehicles that passed by, and wondering where the hell I could ever get decent sleep. If I can’t sleep here, then where??? It really truly does feel like something has been cursing my sleep all these years. The only difference has been how depending on where I’ve lived. It seems to use whatever’s convenient. Since it couldn’t use neighbors or traffic in Maricopa, it used sonic booms. I just don’t know where I can possibly get good sleep more than half the time. Even if I was as deaf as a doorknob, it would just have me wake up more often just because, right? If you can’t use somebody or something, then why not do it just because? If I got a sensory deprivation tank to sleep in, it would just make sure that I overheated, had nightmares, or woke up just for shits and giggles to make up for the lack of sounds waking me up, correct?

So I guess that no matter where I live I’m destined to spend half the time too tired to do much more than rant in my journal. I was never allowed to have true lust, and I’m still not allowed to sleep normally, as if the lack of schedule isn’t bad enough. Seriously… being scheduleless AND a light sleeper. How cursed is that? Tom can sleep throughout this noise with absolutely no background sounds. But I have white noise blasting and it still wakes me up. What is the difference between him and me? What is it he’s got that I don’t have that’s keeping him asleep through it while it’s waking me up? I tell myself it’s better than anxiety, and it is, but it’s bad enough that there’s always something going on with me. I need my sleep same as anybody else.

It appears that Tammy might’ve joined Prosebox after recommending a particular cold medicine when I shared an entry about being sick on Facebook, but I don’t see any books. Maybe she was just curious to see if there was anything she couldn’t see of mine from the outside looking in? She hates to write, so I can’t believe she joined to start journaling.

Aly hasn’t changed handles and Kim hasn’t blocked me, so I don’t know what to think at this point. Right now I don’t care. I just want to sleep! And I want to be able to do it more than a couple of times a week, too.

I had a dream I was standing in the middle of a large grassy slope. I looked down at my “fake bake,” and realized I had the power hose in my hand and that I had to be careful with it.

A dog suddenly appeared with some weird thing on its head that almost looked like a cross between a bandage and a headband. I muttered something that didn’t make any sense and headed down the slope toward a pool.