I’m Wide Awake…

Being up at ungodly hours has some advantages.

I can’t think of any at the moment, but if I do, I’ll get back to you.

Typically, on a work morning, I would wake up, without an alarm (because I’m awesome) at 5am.

This gives me plenty of time to get ready for my favourite part of my day; my morning commute.

From Hamilton Go Centre to the land far, far away, aka New Toronto, aka Vape Central, aka Etobicoke.

Maybe it was the long weekend messing with me, but on this blessed morning, I woke up at 2:13am.

In case you’re wondering, I’m not the kinda girl that can roll over and go back to sleep.

My brain is an intricate beast. Once it senses an opening, it’s game over.

Team Sleep will always finish last, kinda like nice guys and the Toronto Maple Leafs.

Not being able to sleep is a relatively new phenomena for me.

I hear that grief can manifest itself in many ways, and I suspect insomnia is a byproduct of that.

I’m sure there are many more, but this blog’s true intention is to cultivate pity for me for my commute. Nothing else.

Falling asleep was never an issue.

I could be talking to you one moment and then bam! Out like a light the next.

It helps that in any conversation, once I’m done talking, I’m usually done paying attention.

I even mastered the art of sleeping during team meetings and passing it off as deep reflection.

Instead of being reprimanded, I was asked to teach an Effective Meetings course.

I digress.

I used to think my self-diagnosed “mild” narcolepsy was a badge of honour.

Side note: WebMD is a fantastic resource for diagnosing me with diseases I likely do not have. Like narcissism! Can you believe that?

I digress again.

Sleep for me never came at a premium. It was always kinda like the universe telling me to rest my beautiful mind because like an expensive vehicle, I needed my high octane rest.
After all, you didn’t think this wit could run on mere fumes, right?

Once I realize I’m awake, instantly I start to hear Katy Perry singing;

“Falling from cloud nine…crashing from the high…I’m letting go tonight…I’m falling from cloud nine…”

And I sing to it. You may have noticed a bunch of these blogs are titled after songs, proof of my constant mental karaoke.

So…now that I’m awake, and the hours are ungodly, so too becomes my personal line of questioning.

Why am I awake?

When do I have to really get up?

How many hours in the day until I can come back to bed? (Only 20? That could work?!!)

Why do I commute?

How much of my life do I spend commuting?

Is commuting really worth it?

There it is.

THE continual question.

The one that rears its ugly head (idioms created by idiots on the next Maury) whenever I want to over analyze and be dramatic.

Is commuting really worth it?

This question has come up a couple of times this long weekend, so it must have been rattling around in my mind.

Why people continue to discuss work during weekends disturbs me, but I think in both instances the questions came from a good place.

Is commuting really worth it?

I’d like to think so.

Commuting is a relatively new chapter in my life.

When I left my old job at the altar, it was a real shock to everyone. Even me.

I didn’t have another plan. I just knew it was time to leave…a rare example of nothing being better than something.

I knew my next job, wherever it would be would involve some type of substantial relationship.

Enter my commuting marriage.

Although we’re still in the honeymoon phases, I kind of enjoy commuting, so I really hope it works out.

Besides, I’m one of thousands of people that commute to work each and every day.

I may have bouts of misery, but I’m far from being the most miserable person on the train.

Those are the people we blog about.



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