night night

It's pitch black. My ceiling fan on the 3rd highest speed. Cell phone alarm clock is checked, and double checked. My mouth guard is in, so yes, read this post with a horrible lisp, because that's how it's being typed. (I'm a grinder, what can I say?) And yet, those elusive ZZZ's I desperately crave seem to be in hiding.

I had one of those weekends that reminded me how blessed I am. No, I didn't win the lottery or find myself mysteriously cured from a terminal disease. I didn't visit African tribes laden with poverty or converse with drag rats and their starving dogs on Guad. '16 and pregnant' wasn't on Lifetime and our Post Secret books remain untouched on the coffee table. So, there's really no reason this little morale boost kicked in. Truth be told, I think I just kind of remembered who I am, where I am and who I have.

Not to sound effusive and mawkish, because, trust me, my cynicism and horribleness are still rampant, but is there anything better than inexplicable renewed perspective?

Nope. There just isn't.