The third consecutive night that I can’t sleep.
I tried listening to a podcast and to an audio book, then I tried reading a grammar book. Nothing. I can’t get no sleep. I’ve made myself chamomile tea. I’ve watched television. I’ve taken a melt-your-face-off-hot shower. Nothing.
I watched the President speak. Although the entire audience, it seemed, was asleep, it didn’t work for me.
Where did I lose it? The desire to close my eyes and dream? It must be somewhere in here. No, I don’t think I lost the desire. I think I lost the ability. Maybe an early onset of old age? I would just love to collapse. Like Rapunzel. Wait. Rapunzel? No. She just had long hair. I need the other fairy tale. Not Sleeping Beauty. What was that dude’s name? It’s like Vanilla Ice’s real name. Rob Van Winkle. Rip Van Winkle.
I’m delirious. It must be.
When I looked at myself in the mirror this morning, Mick Jagger was staring back at me.
I quickly splashed water on my face and sprung back up, searching for my real reflection. Only, it was still Mick in all his luscious lip glory.
He smiled at me. I reluctantly returned the favor.
At least it wasn’t Keith Richards.