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I haven't been sleeping much lately. I used to enjoy waking up early in the morning and drifting off to sleep again, but nowadays even if I wake up four hours early I don't fall back asleep. I suppose I'm just nervous--thoughts are always racing through my head even when I try to relax. It's not that I'm worried how I'll deal with having a pet after all these years. I know I can deal with the problems--I'm just concerned how everyone else will deal.


It could always be the caffeine. I drink at least five cups of black tea a day. If we had any decaf left in the house I'd drink that. And I think herbal tea is gross. If decaf tasted as good as regular caffeinated tea you'd better believe I'd be drinking it!


And here I thought pacing around and bouncing from activity to activity was part of my personality. Am I really just permanently strung out on caffeine? Damn, that Twinings Indian Spiced Chai is so good, though, and Stop'N Shop had it on sale! All the decaf I've tried tastes like dishwater!


Oh well, I'll try to cut back anyway. Or at least, I won't drink it after 6pm.


It reminds me of that "very special episode" of Saved By The Bell when Jessie was addicted to caffeine pills. XD


Because I don't have any new books to read I'm re-reading Howl's Moving Castle. Considering how I've felt about Diana Wynne Jones' recent books I was worried my opinion of Howl would change. But I still love it, this story that made me pick up a pen again after five years. I don't understand how someone who's capable of writing great, meaty books like Howl's Moving Castle, Dogsbody and Witch Week could also produce anemic works like The Magicians of Caprona and The Pinhoe Egg. Is that what happens with prolific writers? I guess all you can do it treasure the good ones and toss out the bad ones...