Who you calling space trash?

You know when you can't fall asleep at night because you are thinking: What if I have to hurl myself through a wall of fire while holding my son...will I be able to protect him? Will my hair burn off? If I have to drop him out the window in a pulley made of sheets while I am on fire, will I be able to do it?

Oh, you don't think such things?

Last night it was space trash. I started worrying about all the space trash in orbit and wondering what happens if it gets knocked out of orbit and goes hurtling to the far reaches of the universe, upsetting the delicate balance of all things with a horrible chain reaction of mass destruction?

2 nights ago, it was the CERN large hadron collider in Switzerland. I mean, should people be accelerating particles like that?

It used to be only things related to Leon that would keep me awake. I have a graphic imagination and there are many horrifying scenarios of misfortunes and accidents to be keeping a lady up at night.

Now, it would seem, my brain is opting for some more obtuse examples of worrisome tableaux, if you will.

That, paralleled with a dear son nursing every hour and a half through the night, makes for a rather tense, bleary eyed woman of the world. I mean, really, do I need to be worrying about what Swiss scientists are doing with their sub-atomic particles? It's like being in an airplane and convincing yourself that unless you continue to use your own personal sheer will power to keep the plane in the air, the whole damn thing will nosedive in a fiery, horrible crash ( I do this by the way). Meanwhile, other, more sensible people are on planes getting liquored up and reading vanity fair and snoring and drooling on the stranger seated beside them.

It doesn't end there. My dreams taunt me also. I dream about hateful airplane rides all the time. They are always very scary, always exaggerated in the amount of take offs and landings required and always involve lots of banking and diving and swerving and listing and all those other flight related words. I wake up with my fists clenched and my teeth grinding. Again, the more well balanced gentry would be using bedtime to relax.

Sigh. I really do tire of the endless capacity of my brain to find things to worry about in explicit detail. Here I am at my parents, after a night of not sleeping. The idea is they entertain L, while his ragged mother gets some sleep, but no! I'm hunched over this keyboard instead, because I was just laying in bed awake, writing this blog entry in my head anyway and would have kept repeating it over and over until it was written.

"Release me!", in the great words of the even greater named Englebert Humperdink. His parents were obviously the relaxed sort to not be worrying about giving their son such a name. Release me brain, and let me sleep again.