it's me who does that.

An unusual and overwhelming conspiracy of disparate forces resulted in my failure last night to sleep at all (so far as i can remember -- I may in fact have put in a cat nap's worth around 6:30 or something), and my agonizingly painful right ankle affliction today, and a terrifying left hand cramp this evening that I thought might be the undoing of me. I am convinced of a bodily revolt being carried out against me by my own physicality.

Also, this morning, I was moved to brief sad-happy-sleep-deprived tears by the following opening line from a song:

if you take this away i have no one to escort my fears to the place i have built as my fear-fort

Then I was moved to a brief sad-happy-sleep-deprived smile by the closing line of the same song:

in bed do you lay under an afghan humming and wait to find if the day ends without a massive array of self-deprecations? oh no wait, no it's me who does that.