Too Many Dead Brain Cells

Two words: Wicked. Insomnia.

Combined with a couple of medical issues and ... whoo boy, am I grumpy and flaky and in posession of far too many dead brain cells.

For instance ...

Yesterday I spent the better part of my day proclaiming Five Guys as one of the premier burger places via Twitter. Somehow, a group of us decided to have a Tweetup at FiveGuys next week - a bunch of social media geeks who know each other only by Twitter handles and virtual interaction via a social media networking organization.

It was a slow day and ... lately burgers (shocking) have sounded wonderful.

Except, it spilled over into today (ever tried to arrange a meeting with six people via Twitter? You run out of characters before you finish doing the @replies), and today is most definitely not slow, except in the processing facilities inside my foggy head.

In the midst of burger-and-work madness, I've already blown of a meeting today (fortunately rescued by the skin of my teeth when the visitor popped his head in my office on his way to the meeting and said, "I'm excited for today's meeting." Um, yes, me too...WHAT MEETING?!)

As I've mentioned before, this is the year of more doctor's visits than I can possibly keep track of, which is why I should not have been at all perplexed when a representative from the hospital system called me to register for my "upcoming procedure."

Um, what?!

Of course, HIPPA laws being what they are, the hospital couldn't tell me exactly what procedure I've been scheduled for - or when - so I had to play elimination. Probably not something I scheduled. That eliminates Friday's appointment. Probably not something my doctor scheduled. That eliminates a couple of other appointments. Hmmm...but there is the doctor's appointment tomorrow - the one where I don't actually have a physical address for the office and where I'm not sure if I need to do anything in advance.

I pick that one. The hospital lady says "Ding! Ding! Ding!" (in so many words) and then it's time to play "Which Procedure Might the Doctor Have Scheduled for You at the Hospital?" Except, well, truly I have no idea. So I hang up and call the doctor's office, telling them that I have two very dumb questions.

1. "Can you give me your address - I have an appointment and have zero idea where to go." She laughs and tells me it's in the biggest hospital in the valley - you know the one you can see from the Interstate miles away? Oh. That would be what IMC Suite 101 stands for as well as explain the vague response I got when I asked my doctor what the street address was - the hospital takes up four city blocks.

2. "The hospital wants to know what procedure I'm having tomorrow - at this point, I think I'm rather curious as well." The receptionist laughed. "They've jumped the gun. We just have you down as a "possible" - not going to send you unless we determine you need it." Comforting. It wasn't something I forgot.

Of course, she couldn't promise the visit wouldn't involve needles (I still have a 4" bruise from my last encounter with a lab TWO WEEKS ago, compliments of the anti-clotting meds. And my tummy looks like a dartboard in a poorly lit bar (where no one hits the same place twice).

On top of that, I have a major proposal due today - one for a major brand-name publishing house and a major musician. One that is coming at an agonizingly slow pace. It seems I've forgotten how to segment strategies, tactics and technical schemas with all the dead/leaky brain cells lately.

And it seems I've forgotten how to sleep. I am tired, so very, very tired.

But I'm having Five Guys next week - and a very long doctor's visit tomorrow. It's the variety that keeps one's life spicy ... isn't it? See. I have accomplished something. Just not anything that counts at the moment.

Any good remedies for reincarnating dead brain cells?