It's 3:33 a.m. and I'm wide awake. Not a wee bit awake, mind you. Wi-ii-ide awake. As in, my eyes can barely blink. My feet are dancing to tunes of their own. My brain is full of the things I need to accomplish tomorrow so I can go back to work early and get busy catching up on the work I missed last part of last week when I was viciously attacked by some allergen. Whew! That sentence just about wore me out!
The things that go through one's brain at 3:40 a.m. when one knows one should be sleeping like a good one. For example, I was just wondering how many times I could use one in a sentence. Now if that's not something perfectly worthy of thought I can't tell you what is.
I could do some ironing. I could. It would be a quiet thing to do. I could dust. Dusting is quiet. Usually. But what if I were ironing at the moment I could fall asleep if I were in bed instead. Ooooh, did you catch that? In bed instead. It was like a little poem. A pretty good one, too. Oh, there was one again.
Yep, it wasn't a bad poem for 3:45 a.m. I think I'll write another one.