I’m not sleeping again. I wish I had some good company for this. Someone to make popcorn and laugh with about just how tired we are, and yet how unable to actually obtain unconsciousness. I would write a Craig’s List strictly platonic ad to get this, but man, have you seen those listings? Some people need to be learned the difference between “strictly platonic” and “casual encounter”.
Strictly platonic means just friends, people. Not just friends who have sex with one another. I don’t want to kill any time while I’m not sleeping with sex with a stranger. I’m cranky. My eyes are burning. My throat is sore. There is nothing sexy happening over here. Nothing.
Really, the perfect strictly platonic bedfellow that I would like to find would be My Sleep. I wonder if I can post a personal ad for that. Something a little bit like this:
Me – single, 32, female. Exhausted. Wrapped in layers of warm blankets. Prone to long-winded late night blogs about everything that ails. Interests include music, movies, dancing, writing, feminism, and travel.
You – soothing, refreshing, relaxing, revitalizing lack of consciousness with or without vivid imaginary adventures. Please be swift, effortless, and be able to last eight full hours.
OK, yeah, that was pretty lame, but what do you expect? It’s going on 4 in the morning, and my whole body knows that there is no reason why I should be awake, on the computer, and certainly not writing this blog.
I’m just sayin’.