No skate, Sunday

It is 9:32 on a Sunday morning in California, my current state of residence.  There is a slight breeze and the lawnmowers are blaring.  I have been up for four hours.  Well, more than that.  I had a restless sleep.  I dreamed that I offered my mortal enemy, A (I'm fifteen, I'm allowed to have mortal enemies), a chocolate muffin.  I was eating a toffee muffin.  I'm not sure those exist. Which reminds me, I gained a pound and a half.  Lame.  

I kept waking up throughout the night, thinking it was Monday and it was time to get up.  I can never sleep through the night because I somehow manage to convince my unconscious self that I have overslept.  I guess that should be expected when the alarm goes off at 4:40 A.M.  I need to fix my alarm.  It's about fifteen years old and set to the strangest station ever.  I wake up to people talking about Barack Obama, baseball, or oral sex.  It depends on the day.  

Anyway, I have to set my alarm so loud that the entire house can hear it.  It used to take an earthquake, large-scale, to wake me up.  Now I can't sleep.  I am plagued by thoughts of, "Is it six?  Oh, God, I overslept.  No, wait, it gets light at six now.  It's still dark out?  Hmm.  Maybe it's 5:30.  I overslept!  I can't believe it!  I have to get up!  Wait.  What day is it?  It's Monday!  If Wednesday is hump day, I wonder what Monday is.  I can't believe I told Mom that I am clinically depressed on Sundays and Mondays.  She's going to watch me now.  Stupid!  Wait.  I went to Chick's yesterday!  I never shop on Sundays.  So today is Sunday?  Thank God!  Okay.  Maybe I can sleep a little more.  Just a little.  Or should I stay up?  I can rub my toes together for a while.  Just a while..."

This happens again and again.  Last night I left my windows open and I kept waking up because I could hear a violent wind raping my house.  I shouldn't say rape.  This is a family blog.  No, this is a me blog.  No one will read this but me.

The rest of my day will consist of planning.  Planning calories.  Planning homework.  Planning skating.  I spend so much time planning that I find myself panicking at seven at night when I haven't done anything but plan all day.  If I write my plan down, will I actually do it?  Okay.  I'm not going to skate today.  Public sessions aren't worth it.  Why didn't I skate yesterday morning?  I was tired, I guess.  Idiot.  I'll skate Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Okay.  I will do off-ice.  A ton.  I will do my homework.  I will shower.  I will sleep.  I will not panic.