I just read what I wrote last night while, virtually, unconscious. To you, it may not seem so extraordinary, but for me, reapproaching the computer screen remembering not thing one about what I posted, well, is sort of fascinating, if not unnerving. It all starts with being able to type with your eyes closed. They should teach that in school. And to do said typing when you're very, very tired, in a position that lets you pretty much fall asleep.
Who the fuck is Lee Ann Webber, why did her name run through my unconscious? And *who's* got his math in *where*, and why is it going to make him mad, and should I care? These are some odd punctuations within last night's blogging mini-dream.
But then, if I put my analytical lenses in my back pocket, if I feel hard enough, I understand.
Wshew.
