Am I caught up in retail therapy? Binging a favorite tv show? Sobbing along to a Hallmark movie?

Oh no. I’m busy coughing up a lung. Good times.

Listen, there have been plenty of times I’ve seen the clock strike this hour. Relatively few of those times were in college since life embraces irony like that.

It’s only in these elder years my circadian rhythm has taken a turn for the nocturnal. It’s particularly bad when I’m riding a high period but generally speaking I’m the night owl in our marriage. Whatever, we make it work.

What I do not want to be doing at this very late – or very early, depending on your perspective – hour is heating water to make tea with honey. The NyQuil has failed me; the Delsym layered on top refuses to kick in.

What exactly will it take to tamp down this m*therf*ck*r of a hacksaw in my chest? For the love of all that’s holy I JUST WANT TO FREAKING SLEEP.

That is it, that is all. Sweet dreams to those of you blessed with quiet diaphragms.