Night 5: Eight solid hours of insane dreams. I don’t really think this is such a good idea after all. I forgot that I used to dream a lot. I’m not even going to tell you what any of it was, because I know you’re good at interpreting stuff like this, and I don’t think I want to know what it means.
A commenter asks if I’m seeing any real changes. Well, I ended up cleaning up my 13 year old’s room today–didn’t even ask him to help or anything. Weirdly cheerful about something that has been a chronic sore point for about three years. When I excavated last year’s Christmas stocking contents, including a perfectly petrified orange, alongside THIS year’s Christmas stocking contents, I didn’t even say “WTF–NO MORE STOCKING STUFFERS FOR YOU.” I just peeled open a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, slurped it down and knew that all my newfound sleepy metabolism is going to take care of it tonight.