Ah, insomnia. My days begin at midnight. It's truly odd, trying to reset my internal clock, which apparently thinks I live in London. A postcard would be nice, since my internal clock apparently travels without me. I should be writing now, but I'm not, because if I start writing now, I tend to stop only when the sunlight coming in through the window hurts my eyes and think...oh no, it's morning. Again.
My husband snores away contentedly like a big hibernating bear. Tomorrow, my eyes will glaze over in a staff meeting. Sleep well!
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