Springsomnia

It's almost 4:00 am. This is my fourth or fifth time up. I tried watching TV, a little warm milk, reading "The Metaphors We Live By," the works. It may be the Coke I drank tonight, but I think it's clear: I've got springsomnia.

This happens every spring, especially when I'm not taking classes, not working. I lay awake at the end of the school year, thinking about what I'm going to do this summer. This sounds like a very prudent thing to do, but not at 4:00 am, not four hours before I'm due to give a final, and not when the summer plans tend towards the absurd.

That's the funny thing about springsomnia--nothing seems to make sense in the morning. In the evening, though, you're thinking, "This is the year I'm going to grow corn in the garden...and take up bocce...and learn Italian...and write a tour guide to BYU bathrooms...and hike Timp...twice..." And by a decent hour, you're wondering how you expect to do any of this, especially considering that you barely did your homeworking and visiting teaching during the school year. At least you were full of dreams (metaphorically, of course, literally, you barely got 1 1/2 hours of sleep).

Here's what I've got so far: From now until the end of May, I'll finish the Darkwater Grammar, volunteer at the Downtown flower plant-a-thon, participate in Brian's reading group, finish Wimmer's project (finally!), hike Timp caves, run a 5k or two. All the while, I'll be studying Spanish, because I want to go to Belize after my RSA conference to spend 6 weeks with an international aid/vacation program because I have a lot of money and no plans. Then with my last month or so I'll fondly spend time with my family, maybe go to Oregon/Washington with them to visit my old summer place, or head down the beach for a while, and then pack up and head out to Austin in a caravan of all the crap I've accumulated over the years. That seems perfectly reasonable for a summer.


...right?