Michael and I are both suffering from insomnia these days. He's very stressed, which adds to my stress. My asthma has been acting up and hitting very inconveniently at night shortly after I go to bed. I've always tended to toss and turn in my sleep, and that makes things hard for insomniac Michael.
I wish I could sleep as still and soundly as this guy has since 1924 (without being dead of course).
It's Saturday morning, the one day of the week where I don't have to be anywhere (though I have a lot to do today), and I feel like ... well, I feel like this:
"Is it dead or alive? human or inhuman?" indeed.