A Ruffled Mind Makes a Restless Pillow.
Charlotte Bronte gets credit for the title.
Between my restless mind and the lack of air conditioning, sleep will not come. And I feel even worse for kvetching about the A/C after reading Mark Folse's lovely post over at Wet Bank Guide. But I'm not in a shotgun house with 12 foot ceilings. And despite being in the "safe suburbs," mom's uncomfortable leaving any windows open. It's hotter inside than out. Rachel's been thrashing around beside me all night. And I can't stop thinking about how angry I am with State Farm's stalling tactics. I've had enough. (More on all that later.)
Now it's almost 6:00 AM, and though it's not unusual for me to occasionally be up until the morning light starts peeking through, I wanted a little sleep because I have things to do later this morning and I may not get much of an opportunity to catch up with a nap.
I'll just have to console myself with this for now:
Dawn: When [wo]men of reason go to bed. ~Ambrose Bierce
But do they go to sleep?