Three bags full...

Rainy tonight, and sleep eludes me, though I'm very, desperately tired. That's the problem with spending time with smart, funny people who know me well. My mind starts cranking and won't turn off. Well... I guess that happens anyway, but tonight it is pretty bad. I might very well require a nap tomorrow.

I have always wondered why I fall asleep quickly as long as it is daylight. There is something about the night that makes my mind twirl and ponder. One of my neuro-transmitters must be confused... dopamine or serotonin or melatonin. Or maybe my ancestors were the ones tasked with guarding the village at night, to chase away the demons. But I have found some port, in this storm, and it is fairly tasty. Perhaps I'll be sleepy soon...

Counting sheep never works.

Sheep reminds me of wool which reminds me of looms which reminds me of some weaving I have to finish which reminds me of a loom I saw in China like the one in San Diego and my friends who live in San Diego are moving to Boston and I froze to death in Boston walking alone one night and getting lost and the British are coming because Washington failed, this year, to cross the Delaware and save our budding nation.

I want to just give it all up and go away for a year or so. But those are some thoughts, dear Scarlet, for another day.

"I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know?" Hemingway. (who had some weird aversion to adverbs, or so I've been told)

(sorry if I used any inappropriate commas)
(yes, that IS directed at you)