Uncle Sam is messing up my internal clock.

We're into our second calendar week of not having the guys home and I'm experiencing something I would call a folk lore'd occurrence. I hear horror stories of internal clocks getting screwed up, but I thought it was by people with too much on their mind or already plagued by sleep issues. It happens when you routinely go to bed at 9:27 each night (not a minute sooner or later) after giving a kiss to the boy who's still up doing whatever, if you have kids, they're in bed already, but life continues on when you wake the next morning rested and ready for the day.

Oh, goodbye boys.

Hello, insomnia.

What the heck? I don't have kids. I don't even have a dog to hang out with. How is my sleep getting screwed up just because half of the house left??? Oh, maybe that's it. Half of my house left. Half of my life. But on the upside, over half the food budget left. 

So now I'm plagued by the undesire for sleep in a timely manner. Where I was once ointmenting my bunions with foot creme at a reasonable hour now has me breaching Midnight watching Wonder Years on Netflix and the latest season of RHONYC (don't judge). Why? I have no idea. It's not like I'm cleaning....

Oh, wait, that might be it. Because last night I actually was cleaning (sit down people). The guys being gone means I'm more motivated to eat dinner with people than alone (I usually am a wretched homebody). And since people may be inclined to sign me up for counseling with the Chaps (Chaplain), I thought best to actually clean up the common areas of my home before people step foot within the confines of my little rearranged home.

I fear this weekend will include an insane drop in social schedule as I set off into a coma-like state for a Lindsey Lohan-like state of exhaustion. Bazinga.

Obviously this makes for an interesting morning as I shower, get dressed in clothes that aren't visible wrinlked (<--- see...tired) and smell decent, maybe put on foundation (really, I work in an office of mostly ladies - and in a very private sector - who cares if I look at my computer screen without the full Kardashian treatment?), and then enjoy cups of coffee and trail mix until the hours sweep past until it's lunch time or quitting time. Tick tock tick tock.

But then right when I should be scheduling to hunker down for some sleep, I get a reboost in energy.

And so those dishes get tackled, the vacuuming gets done, I take out the trash, recycle all the junk mail, check my email for the millionth time, schedule future dinners with other solo ladies in the squadron, and then finally crawl into bed much later than I should. Maybe I'm preparing myself for his arrival back home (but seriously, already? There's a long time to go) so I can hang out with him for more hours in the day. Yes, maybe that's it. Because it can't be the effort to clean. No, that bit just has to go.