Last night was the first night I’ve actually gone to bed when I haven’t been about to pass out. I was wide awake when I stretched out between the sheets and I already knew, being that it was four in the morning, that insomnia lied in wait there to talk my hear off well past the sunrise. I didn’t even bother trying to sleep in my bed, it would have just been a pointless effort that would have annoyed me to the point that I’d have gotten up. Instead I stretched out on my couch in the office, or the Bat Cave, or whatever you want to call it. I’m going with Bat Cave from here on out, because that just sounds more badass than office. I didn’t pull the thing down to make a bed though, I didn’t want all that empty space. It didn’t matter though, I still laid there until it annoyed me. Then I got up and sat on the edge of the bed and played bass rifts while the sun came up through my window. It was extremely melodramatic of me, but as I’ve decided I’m an author so it must be expected of me. Then I went to sleep, finally.
I woke up a few hours later, right around ten o’clock. It’s a little early for me, especially on a Saturday, but I was just awake and there was nothing I could do about it. Tomorrow I work, it’ll be something to do. Then Monday will come again and the school week should put me well back into the swing of things. If I don’t start getting more hours, I could learn to hate Saturday and Sundays.