Alana Without Doxylamine Succinate

When I'm trying to kick the Unisom habit, the thinking habit returns. What a pest! Let me rest!

Tonight I've been thinking about a lot of things.

You all know that I am a 'hit and miss' gift-giver. If I'm feeling it, I'll gift. I thought about purchasing this book for Nicole last year. I hadn't read it for years but picked it up again one evening and it left me pondering like it always had. (Also desperately trying not to infer sacrilege.) In the shower. Or when I was supposed to be fully immersed in a floor puzzle with Anika. Or when I should have been sleeping.

When I decided to go buy the book for Nicole at Little Professor, I knew it would be tricky getting a parking spot. The entire way over there I planted the seed-thought that the spot right in front would be available. I pulled right in. I pushed open the glass doors and in one fell swoop my eyes darted to the very back of the store. Before even stepping inside, I could see the familiar feather cover (just one copy) perched on the top shelf. It was illuminated and waiting for me thirty feet away. No looking. No searching.

I hadn't thought about that in a while. It makes me giggle.

Morning is going to hurt like it always does. Even more than thinking about the Adam of my soul. Or the seven depths of depth. What is it about my body and/or brain that makes it think it's nocturnal? What caused the hidden treasure to desire to be known?

It takes just half of a tiny blue tablet to knock my whirling dervish down.
But it's too late now.

I'm going to go to bed now to stare at the inside of my eyelids until Brandon's alarm goes off at 5:30 a.m. Goodnight.