Yeah, yeah, New York is 'the city that doesn't sleep'. With me recently, it's been personal. I've been going through some work-driven insomnia that wakes me at three or four am.
I roll over and of course, Mark is fast asleep. I have to get up gingerly and navigate around him. First I visit the bathroom, then I check out the time.
By then, my brain gears are churning about what I haven't done, what I had to do. I have the hardest time getting back to sleep. Sometimes I get up to take a hot bath, sometimes I take an Advil, sometimes I read a book. The next day I am zonked and grouchy, and the next evening, it happens again.
A bunch of us at the office are in the same boat. We shake our heads at each other and say how crazy it is, how we need to do laundry, how we forgot to make credit card payments, how we're on the verge of getting sick. Among the few who sit in the same area, we have a contest - whoever whines first, loses.
A friend of mine asked recently, 'Do you work to live, or live to work?'
Hm. Every cliche has some truth to it, and this one makes me think.
Photo by myself, from the 19th floor above Central Park South. You can see clear down 59th Street.