Friday, September 10, 2010
Thursday was not forthcoming with the sleep. You're going to have to make do with caffeine and sugar. Starting tonight, we're going on a sleep hygiene diet--promise.
I think you know that you and I haven't exactly been friends in the past. I hate the cold, and really it's all you have to offer. Your pollen and mold, while I'm sure delightful in an Earth-renewing kind of way, make my eyes itch and my nose drip. I appreciate the earlier sunsets a little, because my son is much more willing to go to bed when it's dark, but if we could somehow negotiate for a permanent 8:00pm set time, that would be great. Also, if you want to put a cap on the cold weather in the 60-something range, I would be willing to reconsider my position on you as an all-around harbinger of suck to come.
Let's pick up the pace. We've done a lot more than this in a lot less time before. You're just embarrassing me. I'll bring the chocolate chip cookies and the fingers, you bring the work ethic.
Dear Zit on my Forehead,
Can we be done now?