I must have blinked

Sometimes I blink when I'm aggressively trying to hold back tears, (it doesn't work, by the way.) When dirt or a bug or an eyelash wedges itself between my eyeball and my contact lens you better believe I'm going to blink. More accurately, my eyelid will snap shut instinctively and I will be in massive amounts of pain. I will have to pry my eyelid open, remove my contact and attached filth, and then I will likely involuntarily shed a tear or two.

It's Monday. I'm not crying. I don't have anything in my eye, not even a contact lens yet. I woke up this morning thinking, "Where did the weekend go? I must have blinked and it is gone."

It was a stormy weekend here in the mountains. My plans to swim were thwarted but far be it from me to complain about a good round of thunderstorms. We had the kind of thunder that shakes the house and you can actually feel inside of your body. My brain released a smidgen of adrenaline on Sunday morning during one particularly loud "clap" of thunder. Fascinating.

Early this morning I awoke to yet another storm rolling through the mountains. Lightening brightened my room and the thunder seemed to last minutes. I wondered how many people could hear that thunder at the same time as it just kept continuously rumbling. A little more adrenaline. Was I scared? Did my body want me to be scared? Is that why I loved storms as a kid? Because of the feeling I had as a result of adrenaline?

Maybe.

Today is the start of a new work week. I have already had 4 phone calls and 20 emails. Questions and questions I have no answers to. I guess things don't change much when you are sleeping or listening to a storm or blinking. If things at work are not going to change or slow down (or magically get resolved) then I suppose I am going to have to adjust.

Huh. Adjust. Is there a hormone and neurotransmitter for that?

I didn't think so.