In The Wee Small Hours

One of the side benefits (?) of turning 40 this past year (yes, really, 40 - I struggle with that number myself. I don't feel 40. Though I suppose I'm not sure what 40 ought to feel like.)  has been a significant increase in insomnia.

I'm not sure what's brought this about, frankly, but it's annoying. It's not as if I don't need (or want!) the extra sleep. But lately there's been at least one, if not two or three, nights a week where I'll go to bed at the usual time of 10:30ish, not fall asleep until well after 11, wake up at 2:30 and pretty much be done sleeping for the night.

Last night was one of those (and it's following on the heels of a night wherein I dozed fitfully the whole night through. So while yes, some sleep was had, by and large, it was not restful.)

I will simply say this: Despite my parents' dismay that I am a coffee drinker, I fear that it all that's going to get me by today.

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