3am.

Not of the Matchbox 20 variety. Of the "why the heck am I wide awake at this hour" variety.

The worst thing about it, for me, is trying to be still, so I don't disturb the other person trying to sleep in the same bed. The harder you try to hold still and mentally hiss at yourself to "just go back to *sleep* already, you jerk!" the more you fidget.

I got up. Went out to the living room with my thousand page novel. The nice thing about being randomly awake in the middle of the night (if there is actually something nice about it when you have to be up for work at 6) is extra reading time. I am now officially past the halfway point in The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett).

I wish I could stop obsessing with how long it is taking me to read this book. I need to just relax and enjoy it. It's a great book, with rich, complex characters. Who cares how long it takes me to read it?

It's quiet at 3am. Like, really quiet. I can actually hear a mosquito whining somewhere in this room, but not close enough for me to see and swat.

Finally getting drowsy again. Clock check says it's 4:12. I hope the walk back down the hall to bed doesn't wake me up again...

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