My second entry for the day, which entirely makes up for the brevity of the first.

All righty then, here I am in the part-time music teachers office, having sat through one of the longer studio classes in recent memory and just not ready to go home to my filthy house. But I am so sleepy that I actually went over to the cafeteria with Hubby and bought a cup of coffee (and a peanut-butter cookie, but we won�t mention that because it�s EVIL) which I brought back here in the pouring rain, and I wonder how long I can make this sentence before it becomes overly long and starts to droop at the middle, falling over as top-heavy things are wont to do, and collects in a pile on the floor, which will necessitate my kicking it into a corner so that no one trips over it. There, it happened.

Speaking of top-heavy things, that girl who shall remain nameless got up to sing again today, got through a couple of measures and then quit, claiming that she had a sore throat and could not go on. She was dressed again most inapproprately for her shape (and her state of health), which meant that I had to look away. Her dress was black, as usual, but with spaghetti straps, plunging neck, very little back, asymmetrical hemline, made out of a clingy jersy material, and she looked like a whore in it. Her breasts are enormous, but the rest of her is pretty zaftig too. Oy.

And, speaking of inappropriate dressing, a young woman played violin wearing hiphuggers and a shirt that didn�t quite tuck in, and she really is shaped like the proverbial �teapot�, and again I had to look away. Call me a prude, call me intolerant, I�m sorry, I have certain standards of decency, and neither of these young women met them.

Now comes the weekend and week from hell. Choir concert tonight, symphony tomorrow, choir concert again Sunday, student composers Monday, Alcan Quartet Tuesday, chamber orchestra Wednesday, something else Thursday (my poor addled brain can only hold so much), and jazz ensemble Friday, followed by a student cabaret (60�s theme this time). The Alcans are not staying with us this time (thank the gourd for small mercies) but they have every intention of hanging out at our house, since they enjoyed their stay there so much last time.

Except for having to get my house ready for company, it�s not so bad for me. I have six lessons left to teach before juries, completion of my sculpture and two goddess classes. For the last class (provided the weather is fine), both sections will hang their goddess ornaments on a tree selected by Patsy for that purpose. It should be fun.

But Hubby is the one who is really bogged down with all the up-coming events. He attends symphony rehearsals tonight and tomorrow afternoon, has a rehearsal with the string orchestra Sunday afternoon, is on call for all his composition students who have last-minute problems with their pieces, and is conducting the concert on Wednesday night. It�s also his job to write the press releases for these events. So he has asked me nicely to be understanding. I think I can manage that, as long as I can get some more sleep.

Yes, like my good friend harri3tspy, I too suffer from the inability to sleep at night. No matter how tired I am, how much I am yawning and dragging myself around or experiencing burning eyelids and loss of concentration, the instant my head hits the pillow I am awake, alert, and my mind is racing with the day�s events or plans for the next day or the plot of the movie I just watched or the book I am reading. Any little sound rouses me from the light doze that precedes true sleep, and I always hope and pray that I am fast asleep before Hubby comes to bed so that a) he doesn�t wake me with his undressing and getting under the covers and b) I am so far under that I don�t hear him when he starts snoring. And even though I suggested to my good friend harri3tspy a chemical solution, I rarely if ever resort to it myself, instead just waiting for sleep to come and claim me. Ah yes, Come Heavy Sleep really does have personal meaning.

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