It’s…

 

It’s late and sleep eludes me. 

I should try to sleep but the thought of restless tossing and turning keeps me from my bed.  I have so much on my mind.  Yet nothing at the same time (if this is possible). 

Minutiae occupies my thoughts:

Will I wake up with the alarm or before?

Why can’t I remember to buy cream for my coffee?

Should I go to the car and carry in the Diet Coke that has been there since yesterday afternoon?

Why do Morning Glories only open in the beginning of the day? Do they know something that they’re not sharing with the rest of us?  Some secret that only they are privy to?

Will I pass my exam for Real Estate Principles?

Did the gas I purchased today come from a reputable oil company (if there is such a thing)?

Will I remember to buy more of my amazing cleaning cloths before I run out?

Why did they have to end Buffy The Vampire Slayer?

How will I survive another birthday?

Will I finally get the pink, sparkly, ballerina cupcake I long for?  And, if so, will it live up to the idea that’s in my head?

Why don’t more people realize that there’s a difference between the word frijol and frijole (one’s singular and one’s plural)?

Is Starbucks a cult?

What if there really is an end of days?

Can Grover really fly?

Should I get a prescription for Latisse?

Will I find something new to love, now that my obsession with chick peas has come to an end?

Will the economy rebound?

Are piranhas misunderstood?

When it’s late and quiet does the universe whisper its secrets?

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