Victim of marketing or stress?

Maybe I should've skipped yesterday's 2nd nap, or done more to avoid the "Mr. and Mrs. Smith" media blitz. But last night, I only managed three hours of restful sleep. I just couldn't get the problems with the movie's film plot out of my head. I hung out in the garden for a while instead of trying to get back to sleep. James thought I was sleep-walking again because I was trying (and failing) to light an oil lamp with an empty lighter. I really should be more considerate, because James still can't really sleep if I'm puttering around. Hopefully, it'll be much better once the 2nd floor is built.

We scored another private room, but morning television in L.A. sucks. I brought my Conde Naste in Vietnam issue, but continued to be distracted by whether or not this treatment was actually going to help me. (Danger! Pity party approaching) I doubt if the first treatment helped me at all sometimes. I definitely need to meditate more. Which means I need to sleep more. Which means I need to be less distracted. Which means I need to meditate more. And soon, and so on...

And I miss coffee. I miss biting into a fresh baguette dipped into strong and steaming Vietnamese coffee at midnight. I miss Peet's Ethiopian Fancy with an Almond Croissant. I miss Oaxacan blend with Huevos Rancheros, heavy with red mole and quezo fresco. I even miss fucking Gavina with a Sausage, Biscuit, and Cheese McMuffin with a greasy hash brown... oh, the humanity! These are the thoughts that can potentially send me straight towards the nearest center divider. Good thing I don't drive anymore.

But the hope of experiencing all those things again someday, they also keep me away from the center divider.