Last week was fun. It marked the last volleyball practice of the season. It marked the first time that the landlord made it out to the house I live in. It marked the fourth continuous day of burning brush. It also marked the end of an era.
Yes, I'm overjoyed that the stress level will be scaling down from defcon negative 14 to a more mild mannered defcon level 82. I am going to miss this team though. Through the trials and tribulations we have bonded, and had some good times. No, I will not miss this particular batch's drama, nor the tardiness. But I did learn a lot about my coaching style, and how to adapt to the players. Good things for a coach who is still young.
The era closing is the era of Blue House. Or BlauHaus. As of April 7, 2010, Blue House has been condemned by the CEO, Maintenance Head, and Financial Supervisor. We, the tenants, have until August 31, 2010, to vacate the premise. Since my last bastion of sanity that I lived with will be leaving by the end of next week, I can't say that I'm disappointed.
However. I have been talking with the Maintenance Head and we have come to the conclusion that as long as the copper, the appliances, and the hardware remain intact inside the House proper, we will be allowed starting in August to begin demolitions. This makes me very very happy. Coming home from a brutally hot day at work to a house that I don't feel at home in makes me want to break things. I happen to have the blessing of someone in charge to begin breaking things. In a word...awesome!
Blue House has seen a lot in its tenure at the Farms. In the next four months we plan to relive as many of those nights as possible. Come on out if you want to tie one on.
We will provide the sledgehammers.
Buck
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Saturday, April 3, 2010
April showers bring mud.
April has been an interesting month. And it's only three days old.
The end of March left me very burnt out. I continually ran into the same brick wall that I've been facing since November. You'd think that the wall would be broken down by now. But no. It isn't.
Volleyball is draining me of my desire to ever be around people ever again. Because I know that people start as children. Then they learn to talk. Then they become adolescents. And this is a horrible stage. Hormones are horrible things, and girls should not get them until 21. Illegal to consume alcohol and hormones until the 21st birthday. I will concede that my team is 15 years old, and they can be enjoyable to be around in a non-coach capacity. But I can not, for the life of me get them to focus for more than thirty seconds. It's like herding cats into a circle, they just won't do it.
I was offered a proposition by Curt at the end of the month. He asked me, over a long night of complaining at the nearest watering hole, if I would be willing to take on two teams next year. The moment he said that I just looked at him and laughed. I then proceeded to ask him why on God's green earth would I do something stupid like that. He said because there will be a pay bump, and I'll be co-coaching one of the teams, and that I will get a free round trip all expenses paid by the club to Cedar Rapids for a high intensity coaching certification clinic.
I will admit my interest was piqued at that point in time. I asked for more information which he provided right away with a grin that said he knew what the end result of the conversation would be. I saw this grin and became determined to make the conversation end a different way. Just to be a pain in the neck.
A 13's regional team, 6 tournaments, done by the last weekend in March.
A 15's national team, 9 tournaments, done the weekend after 13's.
To quote a well known historical figure, at least in my circles, "What does this mean?"
It means more traveling, it means more comping for gas and hotels(or trucks), it means more responsibility, it means sharing responsibility, it means getting another binder made, it means Monica and I are going to become best friends, it means over night tournaments, it means that I get to be the bad cop (the parents for the 15's national team will be...problems according to every single one their previous coaches), it means that more of my time will be taken away from the farms, it means that I will have to have great time management skills, it means that I get to meet John Kessel - if this name has no meaning for you Google him combined with volleyball. I'll wait. Go on, Google him and then come back. See? Isn't he cool?!- and it means that I will probably take a toaster into a bathtub with me at some point during the season. This is most certainly true.
I told Curt that I could not commit to such a thing at this point in time in my life. His wife sitting across the table from me leans forward and very quietly but with a lot of vehemence asks, "Why the hell not?" She also accented her question with a kick into my shin. I brought up my plans for the fall, winter, and spring, mentioned relocating, this that the other thing. I asked for a couple of weeks to mull it over and see if I hear back from the schools I applied to.
Again, here comes Janelle in the same manner as before, "Good reasons."
She kind of freaks me out. But she made me dinner one night, so...I think I like her.
End of March rolled around and I heard back from a couple of schools, I took Curt aside and said, "Yeah, I'll do it. I will welcome the hell that I have signed up for with smile and a wave." He looked at me like I was speaking in tongues until it clicked in his head, then smiled and said, "I knew you would". Jerk.
That takes us all the way up to April.
I'm burnt out. I'll post again soon and finish off this update.
Buck
The end of March left me very burnt out. I continually ran into the same brick wall that I've been facing since November. You'd think that the wall would be broken down by now. But no. It isn't.
Volleyball is draining me of my desire to ever be around people ever again. Because I know that people start as children. Then they learn to talk. Then they become adolescents. And this is a horrible stage. Hormones are horrible things, and girls should not get them until 21. Illegal to consume alcohol and hormones until the 21st birthday. I will concede that my team is 15 years old, and they can be enjoyable to be around in a non-coach capacity. But I can not, for the life of me get them to focus for more than thirty seconds. It's like herding cats into a circle, they just won't do it.
I was offered a proposition by Curt at the end of the month. He asked me, over a long night of complaining at the nearest watering hole, if I would be willing to take on two teams next year. The moment he said that I just looked at him and laughed. I then proceeded to ask him why on God's green earth would I do something stupid like that. He said because there will be a pay bump, and I'll be co-coaching one of the teams, and that I will get a free round trip all expenses paid by the club to Cedar Rapids for a high intensity coaching certification clinic.
I will admit my interest was piqued at that point in time. I asked for more information which he provided right away with a grin that said he knew what the end result of the conversation would be. I saw this grin and became determined to make the conversation end a different way. Just to be a pain in the neck.
A 13's regional team, 6 tournaments, done by the last weekend in March.
A 15's national team, 9 tournaments, done the weekend after 13's.
To quote a well known historical figure, at least in my circles, "What does this mean?"
It means more traveling, it means more comping for gas and hotels(or trucks), it means more responsibility, it means sharing responsibility, it means getting another binder made, it means Monica and I are going to become best friends, it means over night tournaments, it means that I get to be the bad cop (the parents for the 15's national team will be...problems according to every single one their previous coaches), it means that more of my time will be taken away from the farms, it means that I will have to have great time management skills, it means that I get to meet John Kessel - if this name has no meaning for you Google him combined with volleyball. I'll wait. Go on, Google him and then come back. See? Isn't he cool?!- and it means that I will probably take a toaster into a bathtub with me at some point during the season. This is most certainly true.
I told Curt that I could not commit to such a thing at this point in time in my life. His wife sitting across the table from me leans forward and very quietly but with a lot of vehemence asks, "Why the hell not?" She also accented her question with a kick into my shin. I brought up my plans for the fall, winter, and spring, mentioned relocating, this that the other thing. I asked for a couple of weeks to mull it over and see if I hear back from the schools I applied to.
Again, here comes Janelle in the same manner as before, "Good reasons."
She kind of freaks me out. But she made me dinner one night, so...I think I like her.
End of March rolled around and I heard back from a couple of schools, I took Curt aside and said, "Yeah, I'll do it. I will welcome the hell that I have signed up for with smile and a wave." He looked at me like I was speaking in tongues until it clicked in his head, then smiled and said, "I knew you would". Jerk.
That takes us all the way up to April.
I'm burnt out. I'll post again soon and finish off this update.
Buck
Friday, March 19, 2010
Midwest
1. Rolling hills of green and gold.
2. Lakes filled with water, and fish.
3. Strange scary weather patterns.
4. Corrupt and ineffective politicians.
5. Most of the pork consumed in the nation.
6. Drivers that are courteous.
7. Starting March Madness.
8. Home to two(maybe three) of the best big breweries.
9. Forests that house all sorts of tasty critters.
10. Home to most of the Big Ten.
11. Home to me, now and forever.
Buck
2. Lakes filled with water, and fish.
3. Strange scary weather patterns.
4. Corrupt and ineffective politicians.
5. Most of the pork consumed in the nation.
6. Drivers that are courteous.
7. Starting March Madness.
8. Home to two(maybe three) of the best big breweries.
9. Forests that house all sorts of tasty critters.
10. Home to most of the Big Ten.
11. Home to me, now and forever.
Buck
Monday, March 15, 2010
A day for one-liners
Ron White: I didn't get where I am today by worryin' about how I'd feel tomorrow.
George Carlin: I went to a bookstore and asked the saleswoman, "Where's the self-help section?" She said if she told me, it would defeat the purpose.
George Carlin: Swimming isn't a sport. Swimming is a way to keep from drowning!
Bill Cosby: There is hope for the future because God has a sense of humor and we are funny to God.
Mitch Hedberg: I'm against picketing, but I don't know how to show it.
Steven Wright: What's another word for Thesaurus?
Groucho Marx: I intend to live forever, or die trying.
Buck
George Carlin: I went to a bookstore and asked the saleswoman, "Where's the self-help section?" She said if she told me, it would defeat the purpose.
George Carlin: Swimming isn't a sport. Swimming is a way to keep from drowning!
Bill Cosby: There is hope for the future because God has a sense of humor and we are funny to God.
Mitch Hedberg: I'm against picketing, but I don't know how to show it.
Steven Wright: What's another word for Thesaurus?
Groucho Marx: I intend to live forever, or die trying.
Buck
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Saturday, March 6, 2010
A heart warming gift.
This week I got a package from my grandparents. Usually that means one of two things. Either pictures, or some sort of baked goodies depending on who sent the package. I was very confused at first when I saw the package in my mailbox. Thoughts went through my head including, "Did I get drunk and order books online?" "Is it ticking, if so, what do I do?" "That's a lot of paychecks."
Slowly I walked up to the bank of mailboxes and pulled the BlauHaus mail out which included five bills which weren't mine, two mailings from NRA which were mine, and the package. I casually tossed the bills and the mailings on the counter in front of Tony and said, "Take care of that will ya? I'll be out of the office till tomorrow." He laughed at me and asked if I wanted to work for free doing chores that night. I laughed right back and replied with a very long and complicated, "No."
I turned my attention back to the package, read the adressee, and the sender information. To: Me! From: Grandpa! Awesome! I got some pictures that he took, and judging by the weight of the box he developed them into slides.
Being me (read as: curious) I gave the box a trial shake, not to hard just a little shake to see if there were moving tid-bits inside. What I heard made me stop mid shake. Things that sounded dry and crumby were sliding around!
I quickly open up the package to see if I had damaged anything inside. To my surprise I found a box from Market Day. A box of shrimp from Market Day. At this point I'm thinking three things: Jackpot, I love shrimp! Wait, our family likes to mislead people with boxes which means that the package came from Grandma. Finally, Cookies!
I open up the box and there to my not-so-surprise is a note in Grandma's handwriting saying that she hopes the cookies make it to me as cookies and not crumbs, and that they enjoy reading my entries here.
I put the note in my pocket and open up the first layer of wax paper and find the best treasure: Vanishing oatmeal raisin cookies. My favorite.
I might and or might not have danced around like a little kid at that point, drawing a few laughs from people in the office.
They obviously do not know or understand how great it is to get little packages like this. Not only does it mean that my family still has a vested interest in me as a living human being, but they take the time to mix, bake, cool, wrap, and write a note before sending a package! Talk about commitment.
On another good note, we hit forty degrees out here the past two days. The walking has started again. Granted we still have banks of snow that are taller than I am and the road and ground is completely saturated with water, but I don't need my heavy coat! I can use my thermal hoodie! I don't have to have the heat on in my room at night and not worry about freezing to death in my sleep!
There's something peaceful about walking through the woods searching for antler sheds. Nobody bothers you, the closest thing to people is the highway, if you bring a chair you can sit and relax. Watch the critters running around finally getting to see green grass for the first time in four months.
I have friends that feel at home in the city. They love the bustle, the traffic, the meters. I am not one of these people. True, I enjoy going downtown for a pint, or going to Christkindlemart with the family. One of those is a tradition, one of those is just good clean fun. (Which is which?) I have a sign that I made that reads: I'd rather be lost in the woods than found in the city. And for the most part it's true. I get jumpy very easily, and sometimes I jump when I don't even hear anything. Bailey likes to call this side of me twitchy. There are many a story where he snuck up on me and scared the soul out of me. But, this usually only happens when I fixate on something. When I get so engrossed in what I'm doing that the rest of the world is dead to me.
When I'm outdoors I tend to be constantly taking in my surroundings. Looking, listening, smelling, trying to find something that's out of place. The woods, or anywhere that isn't the city I can handle. My senses can cope with it filter pretty much everything. But in the city...there's just to much. Too much to watch, to listen for, to smell. Plus, a day of walking and you might get out of the city, but it won't be cheap. A day of walking in the woods? Priceless.
A day of walking in the woods with some vanishing oatmeal raisin cookies sent from Grandma? Heaven.
Buck
Slowly I walked up to the bank of mailboxes and pulled the BlauHaus mail out which included five bills which weren't mine, two mailings from NRA which were mine, and the package. I casually tossed the bills and the mailings on the counter in front of Tony and said, "Take care of that will ya? I'll be out of the office till tomorrow." He laughed at me and asked if I wanted to work for free doing chores that night. I laughed right back and replied with a very long and complicated, "No."
I turned my attention back to the package, read the adressee, and the sender information. To: Me! From: Grandpa! Awesome! I got some pictures that he took, and judging by the weight of the box he developed them into slides.
Being me (read as: curious) I gave the box a trial shake, not to hard just a little shake to see if there were moving tid-bits inside. What I heard made me stop mid shake. Things that sounded dry and crumby were sliding around!
I quickly open up the package to see if I had damaged anything inside. To my surprise I found a box from Market Day. A box of shrimp from Market Day. At this point I'm thinking three things: Jackpot, I love shrimp! Wait, our family likes to mislead people with boxes which means that the package came from Grandma. Finally, Cookies!
I open up the box and there to my not-so-surprise is a note in Grandma's handwriting saying that she hopes the cookies make it to me as cookies and not crumbs, and that they enjoy reading my entries here.
I put the note in my pocket and open up the first layer of wax paper and find the best treasure: Vanishing oatmeal raisin cookies. My favorite.
I might and or might not have danced around like a little kid at that point, drawing a few laughs from people in the office.
They obviously do not know or understand how great it is to get little packages like this. Not only does it mean that my family still has a vested interest in me as a living human being, but they take the time to mix, bake, cool, wrap, and write a note before sending a package! Talk about commitment.
On another good note, we hit forty degrees out here the past two days. The walking has started again. Granted we still have banks of snow that are taller than I am and the road and ground is completely saturated with water, but I don't need my heavy coat! I can use my thermal hoodie! I don't have to have the heat on in my room at night and not worry about freezing to death in my sleep!
There's something peaceful about walking through the woods searching for antler sheds. Nobody bothers you, the closest thing to people is the highway, if you bring a chair you can sit and relax. Watch the critters running around finally getting to see green grass for the first time in four months.
I have friends that feel at home in the city. They love the bustle, the traffic, the meters. I am not one of these people. True, I enjoy going downtown for a pint, or going to Christkindlemart with the family. One of those is a tradition, one of those is just good clean fun. (Which is which?) I have a sign that I made that reads: I'd rather be lost in the woods than found in the city. And for the most part it's true. I get jumpy very easily, and sometimes I jump when I don't even hear anything. Bailey likes to call this side of me twitchy. There are many a story where he snuck up on me and scared the soul out of me. But, this usually only happens when I fixate on something. When I get so engrossed in what I'm doing that the rest of the world is dead to me.
When I'm outdoors I tend to be constantly taking in my surroundings. Looking, listening, smelling, trying to find something that's out of place. The woods, or anywhere that isn't the city I can handle. My senses can cope with it filter pretty much everything. But in the city...there's just to much. Too much to watch, to listen for, to smell. Plus, a day of walking and you might get out of the city, but it won't be cheap. A day of walking in the woods? Priceless.
A day of walking in the woods with some vanishing oatmeal raisin cookies sent from Grandma? Heaven.
Buck
Monday, February 22, 2010
I can sleep when I'm dead...
This past week was a bit rough. Alright, it was very rough. Emotionally, physically, mentally, the whole kit-and-kaboodle.
First focal point - volleyball.
Sunday we had a practice that went fairly well for only have three girls there. Monday we didn't have a practice because of Parent teacher conferences at the school.
Tuesday was another decent practice in my eyes. The girls finally realized that, "Yeah, we're gonna have to work."
Wednesday we were off, same with Thursday Friday and Saturday. At least the team was. We coaches however were not off. We had a clinic on Wednesday for our last two months focusing on keeping the girls from burning out from the long season. Thursday we found out that Curt's mother passed away. Friday we had another mini-clinic at Curt's house on coping with loosing. (Related to something somehow I'm thinking...) We didn't really talk about much other that other experiences we were in where we lost, and how we got over it. It boiled down to just a couple of us hanging out in the basement playing pool and drinking beer, talking about what's gone wrong in life and how we got past it.
I was a bit of an outcast at that point. I don't really enjoy talking about my feelings. Ever. It's hard for me to articulate what I feel, because I'm not good at it, I don't like doing it. I've got no problem telling about times where I screwed up, I've got plenty of those moments. I can tell you how I got over the guilt of screwing up. But for me to bare a piece of my soul and tell how I got over that...it just ain't gonna happen. Couple of reasons for that: I better know you better than I know my family, and you don't wanna know how I got over it, I'll look like a sociopath.
Loss is something that I don't truly understand. It happens. We can't change it. Remember what you want and move on. No use beating yourself up about something you can't change. (No use beating yourself up for things you can change either, if you can change it...change it.)
Anyway, Saturday coaches got the day off for planning and assembling the troops for tournaments.
Sunday was the fourth tournament. The girls did a great job. 12 points lost from not talking. From 41 points to 12, in a week. Amazing progress, and I let them know it. But, I let them know it too soon. We were in the last match of pool play, playing for third place. We came out of the gate fired up and took the other team to extra points even if we lost 26-28, it was a great effort. The second set we were set up in serve receive and could not pass the ball. The girls got their heads in the way of they fun of the game. We took third place in the pool because of a point spread that was negative 20. Ouch.
Bracket play started and we swept up. We kicked butt and took names. Every team in our side of the bracket (Consolation first place!) met with defeat when they faced us. The sad thing is that a weaker sister team played great in their pool and got demolished in bracket play. Just annihilated, which happens. What I'm upset about with that situation is that none of that team, coach included, did not stick around to watch any of the other sister teams playing. My team did, well after pictures with the new hardware we supported our 13's and 14's teams still playing.
Second focal point - work(ish)
One of the volunteers out at the farm asked me if I'd help him move some of his cattle and help him load hay, then clean out a grain bin. All in all, not the hardest work in the world. But this volunteer happens to live a good 45 minutes east of here. Working with Hank is a lot like working with Grandpa. The work is cleansing, the conversation is never boring, and there are plenty of coffee breaks. He kept putting off paying me (which he insisted on, I thought I was just going to help out a good guy) till the next day. Ended up that Friday we sat in the tavern for most of the day debating who the better artist was/is: Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard, Johnny Cash, or Hank Williams Sr. At the end of the Friday he asked if I'd come back out on Saturday and help him shoot ground hogs with his son. I informed him that I only have a shotgun and a pistol out here, but I could borrow my roommate's .22 rifle on Monday. Hank said, "Forget that, you can use my aught-6" So, Saturday I showed up at his shop's door around 6 in the morning. Hank opened the door and handed me a cup of coffee and said, "Do you not sleep in on the weekend?"
We took a couple of varmints, and had a great time doing in. Met Hank's boy, who I've heard all about, and had fresh meat for dinner.
Third focal point - Farms.
Somehow, somewhere, somebody is not keeping confidential information confidential. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, but if the only way to keep a secret between three people is to kill the other two, I'm with the wrong company. Cloak and dagger and speaking out of turn on subjects the speaker has no knowledge of is not a good way to retain employees. It makes my head and heart hurt when my trust is betrayed. And betrayed it was.
Fourth focal point - Sleep.
I haven't been sleeping again, hence the subject line. It comes from a song by Jason Michael Carroll, where the theme is being young and crazy and not sleeping.
Yes, this past week has been busy. Early mornings, and some late nights. All of that points to me sleeping. I get tired, I can't sleep cause I'm at the wheel. I get home and crawl in bed, and close my eyes. Then I toss and turn, toss and turn...then finally open my eyes back up and see 15 minutes have gone by. Repeat that for another 4 hours with maybe 5 minutes of sleep thrown in there every hour. I don't know where I'm getting the energy to get through the day. Wherever it's coming from I'm grateful.
I don't know how to change it, so I'm just gonna accept it and move on. Change it when I can.
Buck
First focal point - volleyball.
Sunday we had a practice that went fairly well for only have three girls there. Monday we didn't have a practice because of Parent teacher conferences at the school.
Tuesday was another decent practice in my eyes. The girls finally realized that, "Yeah, we're gonna have to work."
Wednesday we were off, same with Thursday Friday and Saturday. At least the team was. We coaches however were not off. We had a clinic on Wednesday for our last two months focusing on keeping the girls from burning out from the long season. Thursday we found out that Curt's mother passed away. Friday we had another mini-clinic at Curt's house on coping with loosing. (Related to something somehow I'm thinking...) We didn't really talk about much other that other experiences we were in where we lost, and how we got over it. It boiled down to just a couple of us hanging out in the basement playing pool and drinking beer, talking about what's gone wrong in life and how we got past it.
I was a bit of an outcast at that point. I don't really enjoy talking about my feelings. Ever. It's hard for me to articulate what I feel, because I'm not good at it, I don't like doing it. I've got no problem telling about times where I screwed up, I've got plenty of those moments. I can tell you how I got over the guilt of screwing up. But for me to bare a piece of my soul and tell how I got over that...it just ain't gonna happen. Couple of reasons for that: I better know you better than I know my family, and you don't wanna know how I got over it, I'll look like a sociopath.
Loss is something that I don't truly understand. It happens. We can't change it. Remember what you want and move on. No use beating yourself up about something you can't change. (No use beating yourself up for things you can change either, if you can change it...change it.)
Anyway, Saturday coaches got the day off for planning and assembling the troops for tournaments.
Sunday was the fourth tournament. The girls did a great job. 12 points lost from not talking. From 41 points to 12, in a week. Amazing progress, and I let them know it. But, I let them know it too soon. We were in the last match of pool play, playing for third place. We came out of the gate fired up and took the other team to extra points even if we lost 26-28, it was a great effort. The second set we were set up in serve receive and could not pass the ball. The girls got their heads in the way of they fun of the game. We took third place in the pool because of a point spread that was negative 20. Ouch.
Bracket play started and we swept up. We kicked butt and took names. Every team in our side of the bracket (Consolation first place!) met with defeat when they faced us. The sad thing is that a weaker sister team played great in their pool and got demolished in bracket play. Just annihilated, which happens. What I'm upset about with that situation is that none of that team, coach included, did not stick around to watch any of the other sister teams playing. My team did, well after pictures with the new hardware we supported our 13's and 14's teams still playing.
Second focal point - work(ish)
One of the volunteers out at the farm asked me if I'd help him move some of his cattle and help him load hay, then clean out a grain bin. All in all, not the hardest work in the world. But this volunteer happens to live a good 45 minutes east of here. Working with Hank is a lot like working with Grandpa. The work is cleansing, the conversation is never boring, and there are plenty of coffee breaks. He kept putting off paying me (which he insisted on, I thought I was just going to help out a good guy) till the next day. Ended up that Friday we sat in the tavern for most of the day debating who the better artist was/is: Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard, Johnny Cash, or Hank Williams Sr. At the end of the Friday he asked if I'd come back out on Saturday and help him shoot ground hogs with his son. I informed him that I only have a shotgun and a pistol out here, but I could borrow my roommate's .22 rifle on Monday. Hank said, "Forget that, you can use my aught-6" So, Saturday I showed up at his shop's door around 6 in the morning. Hank opened the door and handed me a cup of coffee and said, "Do you not sleep in on the weekend?"
We took a couple of varmints, and had a great time doing in. Met Hank's boy, who I've heard all about, and had fresh meat for dinner.
Third focal point - Farms.
Somehow, somewhere, somebody is not keeping confidential information confidential. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, but if the only way to keep a secret between three people is to kill the other two, I'm with the wrong company. Cloak and dagger and speaking out of turn on subjects the speaker has no knowledge of is not a good way to retain employees. It makes my head and heart hurt when my trust is betrayed. And betrayed it was.
Fourth focal point - Sleep.
I haven't been sleeping again, hence the subject line. It comes from a song by Jason Michael Carroll, where the theme is being young and crazy and not sleeping.
Yes, this past week has been busy. Early mornings, and some late nights. All of that points to me sleeping. I get tired, I can't sleep cause I'm at the wheel. I get home and crawl in bed, and close my eyes. Then I toss and turn, toss and turn...then finally open my eyes back up and see 15 minutes have gone by. Repeat that for another 4 hours with maybe 5 minutes of sleep thrown in there every hour. I don't know where I'm getting the energy to get through the day. Wherever it's coming from I'm grateful.
I don't know how to change it, so I'm just gonna accept it and move on. Change it when I can.
Buck
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