Insomina’s a Bitch

Dear Neighbors, I apologize for my insomnia. Don’t worry, I’m going to the grocery store and buying camomile tea in bulk so that I can ignite some sleepiness in me.

And hopefully finding a cure for my insomnia will stop the 3 a.m. workouts and trips up and down the squeaky stairs (which I’m sure wake you) just so I can get one little snack. Sometimes a bowl of cereal isn’t enough to settle my nerves or fill my tummy, an additional cinnamon role or burrito often does the trick.

And I have to take at least twenty trips up and down the stairs so as to burn off at least a bite or two of my late-night snack.  Plus, I have to evenly trample the carpet, and I think twenty trips is sufficient enough to do this. I’m not a thorough person, but when it comes to ruining carpet, flattening it out and evenly distributing dirt, I believe in doing it evenly. 

Who knows, maybe my body doesn’t want to sleep because I’m finally becoming in touch with my competitive side, subconsciously wanting to be the first one at Panera at 6 a.m.

And one of the many taxing aspects about insomnia is that fact that after I get my coffee at 6 a.m., I am up and at it. I’m ready to converse, do errands and even pay a bill or two. Only no one else is quite up to speed with me. This makes trying to be productive before noon, when I pass out from repressed fatigue, a challenge.

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