(no subject)
When you can't sleep - as a little kid - you can go upstairs and wake up your parents. Make them read to you. Make them sing a third (and maybe fourth!) lullaby. Make them fetch yet another glass of water. Past the age of around five, though, awakening a slumbering mom or dad is ill-advised. It isn't marginally endearing, as it might have once been; it's just annoying. This means that I have limited options available to me:
1. Watch TV. Blah. It's 2:27 in the morning - unless I'm really worried about regrowing my natural hair or buying the perfect pantsuit, late-night programming is out.
2. Read. Meh. I have a stack of eighteen thousand library books sitting on my desk, but that's soooo far awaaaay. Clearly not feasible.
3. Clean. Ha ha ha ha ha.
4. Go sit outside. We have a nice front garden, and maybe a coyote will wander by. Or maybe not.
Ugh, I'm clearly in a bratty state of mind. Maybe I will wake someone up to share in the joy.
1. Watch TV. Blah. It's 2:27 in the morning - unless I'm really worried about regrowing my natural hair or buying the perfect pantsuit, late-night programming is out.
2. Read. Meh. I have a stack of eighteen thousand library books sitting on my desk, but that's soooo far awaaaay. Clearly not feasible.
3. Clean. Ha ha ha ha ha.
4. Go sit outside. We have a nice front garden, and maybe a coyote will wander by. Or maybe not.
Ugh, I'm clearly in a bratty state of mind. Maybe I will wake someone up to share in the joy.