The Art of the Regroup

It has been quite some time since insomnia rocked me so hard I didn't get one hour of sleep. Last night was one of the nights- head spinning with nagging uncertainty, heart aching and wounded by a momentary setback in a very long battle- my eyes weren't closed long enough to even imagine sheep, let alone count them.

I am far too old for all-nighters.

I'm working from home today, disgruntled and weary from last nights tossing and turning, practicing the art of the "regroup." I've become a master of 'plan B' as of late, a systematic side effect of setting my sights a little too high. But I am learning. Learning to be flexible. Learning to laboriously fight my way through a broken system. Learning to navigate through ambitions wrought with all of the impatience the universe has to offer. The lessons have not been hard to come by. I often feel like Washington tests my strength of character on a daily basis. But I am learning just the same.

The rest of my afternoon will likely be spent in bed, wrapped in my soft leopard-print blankets, constructing le battleplan part deux to the hum of my space heater and drifting in and out of a restless sleep. I feel an obligation to be at least a little productive today after taking the 4:45am train back to DC, but at the moment I am paralyzed with a feverish exhaustion that lends itself only to somber blog posts. And maybe movies in bed. And probably Thai take-out.

Anything in the interest of regrouping.