Not that it was my choice, though.
See, Sam always gets up before I do. He wakes me enough to take some of my meds, like Provigil and hydrocodone, that’ll make it easier for me to get up when they hit my system.
I have three med boxes: that first morning one, one for taking Ultram four times during the day, and a bedtime box.
Well, we just swapped some boxes around, and somehow I told Sam (while really still asleep) to give me the wrong box. That resulted in my taking the sleepytime meds in the morning. And yes, they do kick me on my ass.
I went through a few hours of that horrid “I know I should be up. I’m getting up. This can’t be real.” while dreaming and being unable to move. I think the cat bouncing on my bladder may have been the spell-breaker.
Needless to say, my brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders at any point during the day. I know I took at least two official in-the-bed naps. I was less than conscious more than that.
I know that I typed a long LJ entry at some point. It’s gone, and I can’t for the life of me remember what it was. The world is probably better off without it.
I find the loss of the day very annoying, but I also figure that my body must need it.