Today could just be the BEST DAY EVER. Or at least of this week. I finally got my required 9.5 hours of sleep. I feel so much better. Better, as in, I’m not about to karate-chop every being in sight. Last week, I had a miserable case of insomnia. It started one night as I was sitting at home with my laptop, probably gazing at my Gmail inbox (”Ooh, new message?! Aww, it’s just J.Crew.”), when I realized that — holy crap! — it’s late. Whenever this happens, I feel pressured to fall asleep quickly, which, of course, leads to endless tossing, turning and utter frustration. There are so many thoughts that swirl through my mind: ‘Am I comfortable enough? Maybe I’m too hot. Maybe I should pee. OK, I need to calm down and think about random stuff. Books. Friends. God. Food. Maybe I need to shower. OK, I think I’m finally falling asleep. Slow, deep breaths. Darkness. YES! Dangit. I got too excited and woke myself up. Grrrrrrr.’ Pretty soon, it’s three hours later and I’m ready to die. Each night, it got worse and by Day 3, I was a weepy, puffy-eyed disaster. Luckily, Matt has been extremely supportive in all this: “Michelle, I know you can do this. It’s so easy. Watch me. [10 seconds later] Zzzzzz.” Anyway, after throwing two (yes, TWO!) successful gatherings in one day on Saturday, I finally (FINALLY!) got to sleep. Go me!

“Thanks for coming everyone. Go ahead and let yourselves out.”