Next Time I'll Go For The Potatoes

What do you do if you just can't sleep?

I spent a couple of hours trawling through the blogosphere. I invested quality time on facebook. I typed random words into the Google search box and then hit the "I'm feeling lucky" button. (And I discovered that Ahuda is a Hebrew name for a girl and it means "dearly loved".) How's that for desperation?

It must have been all the green vegetables I ate for dinner that are $@&#%ing with my head right now. A boy's got to be careful about getting too many vitamins in a single meal. Right now I've got a gazillion little healthy molecules zipping through my arteries and clanging into my brain receptors. They're making such a din that my mind is unable to zone out.

I've poured myself several very small helpings of juice to break the monotony. Oops. Idiot! More juice = more vitamins. What was I thinking?

Sigh. Tomorrow is going to be interesting. I'm so looking forward to the seven hours of meetings on my calendar.

I'll need to find a way to impersonate someone who is awake. Should I do that by being extra quiet and thoughtful, or by being unusually vocal? Maybe I'll go through the day as a dark, brooding presence. Sort of like Darth Vader but without all the funky S&M gear. I wonder if I can find a pretext to say to someone in the office "I am your father"? On second thoughts, maybe I'd better not. I wouldn't want the stormtroopers from HR to lock me up in one of their ionic phase-shift prisons.

It's three in the morning and time for desperate measures. I'm going to read an essay by Tolstoy titled What to do? Thoughts evoked by the census of Moscow...

... Gah! It's excruciating! Within the first page the protagonist has asked five policemen five times whether it is truly illegal to be a beggar in Moscow. (Yes, it truly is.) I'd rather be up all night than try to put myself to sleep by reading this dreary, repetitive gunk. Even if I do fall asleep I'll only have nightmares of old men in long overcoats chasing policemen and pleading for beggars' rights.

All right, I give up. I shall now proceed to toss and turn restlessly in bed until I count sheep number 2,468 and finally fall asleep. Just in time for the alarm clock to sound off the start of another day.