Last night I was ready to pass out by 9:30--no, not because of alcohol; it's just been a very tiring week--but instead I stayed awake, wandering around the Internet, too exhausted to take any of it in, not really finding anything interesting anyway. (Seriously, have you ever noticed how boring the Internet is? I don't know what all the fuss is about.)
I do this a lot--stay awake for the sake of staying awake, with this vague feeling of just in case: just in case I come up with some brilliant idea, or something amazing happens--when I'd be much better off getting a head start on what will invariably be a rocky night of sleep. (Thanks, kids!)
But this time around, I really don't know what I was thinking. I mean, I had already mopped the kitchen floor. What more could I possibly have expected from my Friday night?
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she busts out with the self-effacing self-promotion
My memoir was panned by Kirkus Reviews! You know you want to find out why.
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