Bitch Tits

I woke up with Bob and his Bitch Tits in my head. I've been battling Fight Club style insomnia, and I need to own the movie again, so I can put it on next time the 4 am walls taunt and tease me. This morning, (yes I know it's after 1 pm), I'm basking in the upside of sleeplessness, the post-crash full body exhale of relief. Night before last I did not sleep, not at all. I watched the numbers turn over and the alarm sound, and out of confused spite, I hit snooze and watched 10 more numbers turn until it was time to get up. Then I worked from 8am to midnight, which is actually the very best thing to do on no sleep, because it guarantees THE CRASH. I left work last night, with the house still standing, kids asleep, and I slept for 12 straight hours. Right this second, I can't name a single thing in life that felt better than last night's sleep. The sweet slurpy-ness of the word SLEEP, soothes me, and I love my pillow so much I might marry it.