I really ought to be doing constructive things right now, like sorting laundry and making a packing list. Instead, I'm hanging out on the 'net, eating cookies, and generally goofing off.

And trying to put together some first impressions of various BPAL blends, because I doubt that I'll have time to do much serious reviewing over the next couple of weeks.

I ought to be at the workbench getting things ready for the push when I get back, as I have two shows scheduled for the weekend after Labor Day. I should be making an order for the silver and stones I'll need, too. I should also wait on getting more stones until the September gem show, but it seems like it's been a hit-or-miss proposition lately; if I need it, none of my regular suppliers will have it.

I ought to see if I can find my good leather bodice (and if it still fits around my post-second-pubescent cleavage), just in case Minnesota RenFaire is in the works for this weekend. Of course, with the way the house is right now, I'd be better off spelunking for needles in haystacks, and I'll probably just try and find a couple of coin scarves there to make me feel somewhat garbed. The company will be more important than the costuming, anyway (and I never thought I'd see the day when I'd say that about going to Faire. I was 12 when I went to my first one, and I didn't feel "dressed" until I bought a flower garland.)

I ought to put the new cartridge in the printer and print my e-ticket, but that can wait until tomorrow. (For the record, no matter how late I stay up, it's not officially tomorrow until either I've had some sleep, or the clock hits noon.) Once that's done, it'll be a fight to avoid further procrastination by booting up Photoshop and printing out a couple of pictures from the last trip up north.

Of course, the ultimate "what I should be doing" is getting my arse to bed so that I have a fighting chance of accomplishing my list of things to do tomorrow, but I'm too antsy to sleep. Too much stuff in my head, clamoring for my undivided attention. Too many "ifs" and "whens" and "maybes", and too little internal silence.

All hail Insomnia, Goddess of Sleep Deprivation. Her supplicants are recognized by yawns; Her sigil is the sacred Coffee Cup.