Sleep and Mosquitoes

How is it possible that at this point in the summer I am still needing so much sleep? I gave up on trying to become a morning person because of how groggy, crabby and disoriented I felt all the time. And at this point, it's heatstroke-hot by about seven, so motivating myself with exercise is no longer possible. So, whatever. I've chosen to spend the time mourning the quick passing of summer by taking lots of naps, watching Ugly Betty on Netflix and, of course, doing lots of writerly things -- procrastination, drinking, and spacing out on the couch. Still, I'm reading Sophocles and hoping to move onto Shakespeare by tomorrow. Okay, I am not hoping to move on to Othello, especially when I have yet to get into The Sociopath Next Door and a book about mega hot-mess-diva-fashionista-gay-icon Little Edie Beale. The literature is part of a course for which I will assist a professor this fall. I am expected to be able to answer questions other than What if every stapler on campus is out of staples? What then, teacher-lady with a way intense attachment to stapled work? So, I'm reading as much as possible ahead of time and trying to come up with ways to make ancient poetry exciting and relevant. It's very tiring. Hence, the napping.

At the moment several scratched-open mosquito bites dot both my legs because I watched the Independence Day fireworks without applying bug repellent first. I forgot how terrible the mosquitoes here are until I woke up in the middle of the night scratching like the protagonist from every 80s anti-drug after-school special. It was usually PCP or LSD that caused the bad kid to hallucinate bugs crawling all over his or her skin just before leaping out the window of the biology lab to die in bloody shards of broken glass while McGruff the Crime Dog or the gym teacher would shake his or her head, muttering, "So young. If only Paul would have resisted peer pressure like we talked about in class. Tsk. Tsk." Long exhalation, followed by someone like Tatum O'Neal walking onscreen in Jordache jeans and launching into her post-rehab propaganda. Hi, I'm Tatum O'Neal and although the after-school special you just saw was a fictional story, the dangers of drug use are very real. I should know.  The point is, I was itching bad. I woke up several times and covered my legs in After Bite, the active ingredient of which is ammonia. I suppose this is slightly less toxic than nail polish remover, which is what I used last year when I decided it was safer than using a lit match.

I didn't get enough sleep due to waking to reapply After Bite. Therefore, my agenda for today is read a few pages of Antigone, eat some Cheez-Its, drink some orange juice, read a few more pages, nap, wake up, drink more orange juice, pet cats, read weird emails from men on dating websites who tell me what a cute princess I am, disable online dating profile, reapply After Bite, read a few more pages of Antigone and then take the evening off. Spend much time choosing between meeting my writing quota or watching Ugly Betty. Or maybe I will go out and sip a cocktail since that cute bartender is working. I don't actually want to go on a date tonight. My legs are too itchy. The welts distract me like tiny, whiny babies. I am the Octomom of insect bites and my decision to venture outside without bug repellent was nearly as unwise as her decision to start her own child army.* But that sounds kind of judgmental, doesn't it? I'm crabby, which can mean just one thing. It's nap time. Can't fight it. It's summer in the South, and the weather is perfect for sleeping.

* The term child army belongs to Michael K of Dlisted. I wish I could take credit for it, but he would shank me in the neck if I plagiarized him.