It’s early morning on Sunday the 26th. I thought I’d be posting about the free Hatch Shell concert from earlier tonight. As it turns out, though, I slept through it.
And when I say “slept through it,” I mean I went upstairs for a nap at 4:30 PM and woke up at midnight.
And now, of course, my body doesn’t want to go back to sleep because it’s already had almost eight hours.
What’s the opposite of insomnia?
I have long suspected that my occasional marathon naps have something to do with depression, but this is a new one—I don’t feel depressed, just disoriented. Unless, of course, I’m hiding something from myself.