I spent all day Sunday in what felt like a sleep-deprived fog, even though I slept reasonably well Saturday night. I figured something must have gone awry during the night. This morning, as I tried to prepare for my work day, I found out what. And promptly notified my boss that I’d be staying home for the day on account of not being able to keep my insides inside.

I then curled right back up in bed and slept for another five hours, racking up nearly twelve hours of sleep. Now, I don’t sleep during daylight or with loud noises outside very well, so that tells me something about the state of my body right there. Also? I didn’t even feel properly hungry until almost 3pm.

About which, by the way: Eating some cheese & crackers didn’t go quite as well as I’d hoped. More’s the pity.

Later I’ll be trying some ramen noodles and passing the time watching bad movies or something along those lines. I can’t concentrate well enough to read a good book (again, more’s the pity) nor handle three-dee activities like (for instance) most video games. I don’t get bored, but I am annoyed that my go-to “leisure” activities are denied me today. I’ll manage, though. I always do. (Hello, MediaMonkey and my 60-gigabyte music library!)

At least the rain has scoured much of the pollen & other allergens from the Portland air. For this, I am grateful.

Among the things I expected when I awoke this morning, such as “oh crap I don’t want to deal with Monday” and “I hate the onset of summer weather,” I didn’t count a strong bout of “but what do you bring to the table, really?”

Especially when I’m not sure I bring anything to the table. Ever feel like you’re just a space filler?

I need my camera back so I can get cracking on more comics. At least then I’ll be making something.

There’s nothing quite like the realization that you were wearing the wrong black jeans to work all week…

…and that it was the pair which was due for structural failure…

…that had finally started to give out at some point in the week, unnoticed until Saturday morning.

Sigh.

2012 is shaping up to be quite the year. This month alone:

• I bought a brand new bed. To the best of my recollection (which is, admittedly, rather sketchy) this is my first major brand-new furniture purchase. I’d like to thank Cotton Cloud Futons for their excellent products & service, by the way. Once I got used to the lack of poking & creaking of springs, I started getting much improved sleep.
• I turned 40. Apparently this is some sort of major milestone. I don’t feel any different, really.
• I will no longer be making Tuesday visits to see any of my rugrats, since they’ve both essentially left home. My son’s off at school, and my daughter has moved in with a friend to seek her fortune as an adult out in the world. It’s the end of a long and strange era; I wonder how many other divorced parents have stuck with a twice-a-week visiting timetable like mine.

What’s next? I don’t know, and I’m trying not to worry about it.

“Trying” is the operative word, there. Heh.

A strange thing happened during the months immediately after I lost my old job, six years ago this week.

I stopped writing & responding to email. Yes, in general, I reply to most of the more timely missives (“Shall we do X on Y date?”) but casual conversations tend to fall right off the radar. Actually, it’s worse than that: I leave things in my Inbox to remind me to deal with them, and those messages sit there… sometimes for months. All I have to do is open up a message and type a reply, so what’s my deal?

I honestly couldn’t tell you. The strange thing is that I used to be Mr. Email, I loved typing back & forth and eagerly pounced on an opportunity to reply to a message. Somewhere during that emotionally crippling spring & summer, however, that went entirely away. Now I have to push myself to reply to a simple message that requires anything more than a one-sentence reply. It doesn’t matter who the email is from, either. Parents, sibling, children, girlfriends, old friends, complete strangers, all have about the same chance at getting a timely response.

I don’t know what this all means, other than to note one more part of my psyche that broke in 2006. Of all the things I’ve lost, I miss my mind the most…?

I turn 40 in a few weeks.

I’m no stranger to the trick knee, having “enjoyed” such for most of a decade so far. Unpleasant, sure, but it’s manageable, isn’t it? Stairs aren’t your friend but level surfaces don’t cause much difficulty.

Yesterday morning, my left hip started going wonky. As in, “walking hurt like hell all of a sudden.” What’s weirder is that stairs don’t trigger the pain much but walking across level ground becomes rather excruciating. Like, say, the walk to the store and back.

And I woke up with the same pain this morning. This had better subside, and soon…