who needs sleep?
April 14, 2003, 1:56 am

Sunday nights are always the hardest nights to find sleep. Tonight, sleep is as elusive as Robert Denby; it is Keyser Szose (without the umlaut); it is the last traces of Maryland snow in March.

All metaphors aside, I've never been much of a good sleeper, anyway. My parents always said that even when I was four years old, they'd just leave me in my room with a lot of books, knowing that I'd read well past midnight until my eyes gave out and I'd collapse in all my pajama-footed glory. As I've grown older, I find my insomnia has been both a blessing and a curse: a blessing for all-nighters involving college papers/parties; a curse for my professional life that makes me get up at the ungodly hour of 5am.

I've found my insomnia is directly proportional to the number of things I haven't accomplished before going to sleep usually, but tonight, well, tonight is different. All of my papers are (finally) graded. My car is clean on the inside and will be serviced tomorrow. My outfit is laid out, ready to be worn (I'm giving the kicky bow-tied mules another try tomorrow; if they don't work out, I'm donating them to the costume closet). My books are read, my lesson (for better or worse) is psuedo-planned...why am I restless?

It can't be the boys. It can't be. Last night, I was more than encouraged when an adorable Joe skulked into the party around 11 and showed an intense interest in hanging out with me; furthermore, he expressed disappointment in that I had to leave at 11:30, hoping I'd return before the party was over (I did, but the house was black...apparently, everyone crapped out). Despite only being there for thirty minutes, I was happy with the vibe: it had a nervous, first-date quality to it, like neither of us knew what to expect. I'm such a big, silly dork.

Follow it up with today, and a phone call from CNET. We giggled over the fact that we both wanted more than anything to be driving around and we had a nice conversation before his phone crapped out at Metro.

*sigh*

So, it's not the boys.

It's the play. It's always the play.

I will be back to my old self as soon as this is finished, and I'll be a better person for it.

Bunnies. Bunnies. Bunnies, bunnies, bunnies! Aw.

See, I feel better already.