Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Wakey Wakey

My family has a pretty legendary streak of insomnia, and its fair share of night owls. It is not at all unusual for my maternal grandmother to fall asleep after 4:00 AM and wake around noon. My paternal grandfather was known for his late-night forays to 24-hour donut shops or, you know, Kentucky. My father freely admits that his genes have played a large part in my own sleep troubles. While I appreciate the fact that he doesn't try to deny his culpability, I sure do wish he'd passed on some other DNA. Why not the one to make me a little bit taller? He doesn't have it. Or the one that makes me a baller? Absent, as well. (Skee-Lo feels my pain.)

So here I am, exhausted and blogging at 5:30 in the morning because I haven't gotten my forty winks yet. I'd like to keep reading the book in which I'm currently entrenched--Gone with the Wind--but it requires focus that I don't possess at the moment. If I had some energy, I'd head over to Waffle House, grab myself a chocolate chip waffle and a side of bacon, and work on a short story I started and am now required to finish. The petulant child part of my brain wants to call Dad and wake him up, but I won't do that, because he's my father (and also because he knows where I live).

Instead, I'll finish this post, crawl back into bed, and hope for the best. Sweet dreams, my slumber-challenged friends.


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