It's my own fault that I'm up this late. I chose to get a chai tea with espresso at Starbucks with my house mates at 8 pm. I'll regret it tomorrow morning when I have to get up for work, but for now my mind is restless so I'm just going with it.
As though I didn't have a hard enough time getting up in the mornings. Yet another struggle that, as menial as it might seem to others, I need to learn to lay the guilt of (so many missed classes and days of work,) at the foot of the cross and kill as part of my old, lazy nature.
So here I sit, on the couch of my apartment, with my chamomile tea, listening to Sufjan, and contemplating sleeping on the couch, where I might have a harder time oversleeping in the morning.
At least I'm using my sleeplessness productively; finally returning e-mails months overdue. Making to-do lists that I might actually accomplish when tomorrow comes.
And there are so many things I need "to-do..."
An ever-present pile of dirty dishes in the sink stare me down, a bathroom that must have only just now suddenly become dirty because I certainly didn't notice it before...
Little projects of my own, some necessary, some not, that lie around the house and around my mind half finished. Correspondences and prescriptions that have been pending for too long, both designed to ease my breathing.
So many sins and questions un-bathed in prayer and fasting- indulged, rather, in vain attempts of self-attained understanding.
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