Not everything about being a Yeagley spawn is as glamorous as you might have thought. From my mother, I have inherited insomnia. Genetics can be cruel. When I was a baby, I was just labeled a night owl. My new young parents threw their hands up, tossed toys in my crib, left the light on, and went to bed to catch up on their own zzzzz's.These days you can find my mother upside down watching CNN at 3AM like a bat on her couch. Alternately, you can find me watching HGTV while searching youtube.com for that one Gilda Radner sketch on the Muppet Show singing the Modern Major General song from Pirates of Penzance with a seven foot carrot in a tuxedo. If I'm not doing that, you can bet I'll be in my bed tossing and turning like Doritos and grape soda on Phil's 7th grade whale watch until 3 or 4 in the morning.
It's not that I'm not tired. My eyes feel like they have SOS pads behind the lids and my body wants to shut down. But there I am, eyes wide open, wondering what parts of Murphy are chow and which are golden retriever. Well, when you can't sleep you web crawl all sorts of answers to the most inane questions. If you've ever wondered why I am a fountain of useless information, wonder no more. Insomnia.
Insomnia is for sucks!
