Yawn.

Sleepy. Need coffee. Need to wake up. Need nap.

I curled up in my bed last night, trying to find the best spot that would provide optimal fan relief. Not that it was particularly hot last night - it was the softly simmering, humid night that's become blessedly common these last few weeks - but I wanted to be able to hide out under warm blankets. Which required the countering cold of the fan.

I shifted about until the fan blew onto my face, then closed my eyes and waited for sleep to come. Lovely.

I waited.
And waited.
And then waited some more.

Tossing, turning, fretting and cursing followed. Temporary insomnia is always aggravating, but it doesn't normally leave me feeling angry and indignant with myself. But it did last night.

I'm ENTITLED to get a good night's sleep, I told myself. I worked hard, I went running, I took care of everything I was supposed to...I DESERVED sleep!

I never dared look at the clock, for fear of being further disheartened. But I'd venture to say sleep came around 2:30. Which gave me about five and a half hours until Ryan Montbleau began to pound out the chorus to "Stretch" on my cell phone-turned-alarm.

I did the only logical thing one can do at that time.

I began my day cursing Montbleau for waking me up.

Awesome.