When I was working on my masters in theatre, I was required to take a “Dramatic Theory and Criticism Class.”  It was one of the most challenging classes of my academic career and one of my favorites.  Structuralism, Feminist Theory, Queer Theory, Plato’s The Republic, Aristotle’s The Poetics — yeah, this class completely hurt my brain.  The most memorable aspect of the curriculum was the topic of semiotics.  In a nutshell, it’s the study of signs and symbols and how meaning is constructed and understood.  For instance, there is nothing innate about a chair being called a chair.  It could just as easily have been called a dog.  And yet, we as a collective choose to accept that a chair is a chair.  Red means hot (and stop), blue means cold.  Skull and cross bones means danger — or the Jolly Roger if you’re a fan of pirates.  Signs and symbols are everywhere.  Our very language is a part of this. It can get hinky when we start talking about things like freedom, democracy, patriotism, morality.  But I digress-

So where am I going with this?  One of our assignments was to write a short paper on the semiotics of a room in our house.  We had a huge conversation about the semiotics of a place we visit for the first time.  We make judgements about our surroundings until we become familiar with it.  It was a pretty difficult assignment — trying to analyze a room in one’s own house as if seeing it for the first time.  I remember asking my classmates if they ever experienced something traumatic in their lives (heartache, death of a loved one, etc.) and their surroundings immediately seem alien.  They all agreed that this has happened at some point in their life.

And now to the point — all my surroundings have seemed completely foreign to me for the past week.  I guess that’s what happens when overnight, you become a raging insomniac due to restless leg syndrome.  I have seen the sun rise more in the past week than I have in my entire life — no joke!  I have a whole new appreciation for the poor soul who can’t get to sleep.  It messes with your entire life and can thrown you into a deep funk.  It got so bad, that I asked Chucklebutt to cancel his annual Utah 1088 trip.   I definitely have felt like I am going to lose my mind.

I tried everything — relaxation techiniques, quigong breathing, exercise (limited because I’m still gammed up from the surgery).  I even resorted to listening to Mom’s favorite radio show — Coast to Coast.  It’s your source to go to for alien abductions, conspiracy theories, Big Foot and other paranormal phenomena.  Nothing worked.  I laid in our guest room bed — Scout right by my side — and stared at my bordello Christmas tree I have yet to take down.

Yummmmm — cupcakes!

I love this flower.

Creepy pink Santa.  It’s actually really pretty in real life.

And that’s pretty much what Scout and I have looked like for the past week — wide awake and crazed.

So after repeated calls to my OB, internist, and pharmacist, I have some good news and some bad news.  The good news is I know what’s giving my legs the willies — the birth control pill.  The estrogen has thrown my body our of whack and is giving my legs a heck of a time.  It has been reported that pregnant women experience severe RLS.  The pill I was on, makes my body thinks it’s pregnant.  Ergo, severe RLS for Nicole!  Needless to say, I’ve stopped taking the pill.  The bad news, of course, is that I still need to be on something to prevent scarring and to create a nice cozy home for a baby.  Hmmmmm,  maybe my OB can work some magic.

Tomorrow I head back to work part time and I am looking forward to getting out of the house.  I have rediscovered ebay (hey, a girl has to find something to occupy her time at 3am) and it’s becoming a bit dangerous.  Mom had her gall bladder taken out in 1986.  That was when it was major surgery.  It was also the same time that QVC came out.  She bought all sorts of stuff — jewelry, watches, you name it.  I remember Daddy saying, “Hells Belles woman!  We’ve got to get you better so you can stop shopping!” 😀

It hasn’t gotten that bad — Chuck isn’t saying things like “Hells Belles”, but I better stop while I’m ahead.

Have a good week everyone!