All jacked up and no where to go

Tanja "Do you know how you know you're getting old?"
Michelle "Yes. Do you?"
Tanja "Yes, I'm going to buy a pair of Birkenstocks."
Michelle "Yup, that's a sign."

It's far too early to say there is a trend, but the last two mornings I have woken in the middle of the night and have spent hours trying to find sleep again.

There are several reasons why a person might suffer a broken sleep like this - I would Google it but the results are too tedious to go through, so let's just make some stuff up:

Okay that's all I've got because right now I am refusing to put down "advancing age".

OK OK I am sleeping like an old man who has spent all his time at sea on a fishing trawler. Wanting to be up for four hours and alseep for four hours. Maybe it's a past life thing - that'd be right wouldn't it... I wasn't Cleopatra, or Boadicea, or Mark Twain - I was a fisherman, working shifts and swabbing decks.

And how I babble when I don't have much sleep. I feel a little jacked-up (the righthand side) on mediocre coffee*, generally cold and I don't have any finesse around my tasks. What I mean by the last bit is that I can only do exactly what is needed. If what is needed is creative? just forget it. I couldn't even order my lunch today at the salad bar.

What is wrong with people? When I say to someone who makes a bazillion salads and stuffed hot potatoes a day "Make me a salad please, I don't mind what's in it or what it's dressed with." why can't they handle that? wouldn't you just make your favourite salad? cos you know what tastes good, surely.

*still can't find a good coffee place in my new work neighbourhood