What a life I lead, huh? Thank the gods for Air America radio and its re-runs of the Al Franken show. Otherwise I might still be trying to sleep, this time in my chair in the hopes that the discomfort I feel would result in my not sleeping through my alarm clock.

Am I the only one in the world with such sleep problems who makes up such cockamanie plans to try and solve them? Am I really the only one who, without aid of caffeine, occasionally can't sleep worth a damn? Am I the only one who can sleep through two alarm clocks, even by going to the extreme of walking across the room to hit the snooze button over and over again without waking up? Is there a medical term for such strange - and, one would think, mutually exclusive - sleep phenomenon? Perhaps I should bring this up with my therapist. It hasn't come up, yet. Maybe I should bring it up with my psychiatrist, instead.

So I can't sleep . . . and no one is on-line . . .

Life, it seems, is telling me to go to sleep, but my body is not listening. And now I'm afraid I'll sleep through my alarm and be late for work. Must not be late for work. That would suck. The last thing I need is to be fired from my job when I'm in the middle of so much good therapy I'd no longer be able to afford. Not that sleep-walking through work is all that advisable, either. I deal with too many breakable items to do that.

So I can't sleep . . . and no one is on-line . . .

I'm getting too old for this game. There was a time not that long ago when I could stay up all night without breaking a sweat. Now I'm sweating a couple hours before I even have to be AWAKE. Well, maybe I'll try for a few winks before I give up completely . . . wish me luck in both falling asleep and in getting up on time . . .

Don't forget to write, you wonderful voyeurs you.