Awake at O’ Dark Hundred…Why?

Is being up and tossing in the wee small hours simply a byproduct of getting old?  It began with a dream.  I’ll keep this short since other people’s dreams are boring.

I was Courtney Cox.  The formerly vivid bits have been swept into the wind.  But there was a vintage car involved.  And the hitting of a game show type button.

Then my brain began dwelling on ideas for my upcoming Etsy shop.

After that, I began thinking about Tate, my grandson who is about to be two. And how I wanted to be with him for his birthday. And how I hate Chicago in December and why-oh-why didn’t he get born in August?

Usually, if I relocate to the sofa at o’dark hundred I can fall asleep.  I tried to pretend I was on the sofa when still in bed.  My brain wasn’t fooled.

So–off I go.  Hauled my fluffy feather pillow along and onto the sofa.  Sigh.  I will attempt a deep breathing lobotomy.