How can it be so hard . . .

I'm a talker. Give me a topic, and I can talk circles around it. I'm even getting to the point where I can talk to just about anyone, at least for a few minutes. (Leah, on the other hand, was born at that point. She can go to the bathroom in a restaurant and learn the life story of whoever else is in there in four minutes or less.)

So how can it be so difficult to write a few words here every day? Maybe because no one's giving me the topic. I have to think of that all on my own, and first thing in the morning, thinking can be tough.

I used to be a night person (and deep in my heart, I still am). Stay up until 5 or 6 a.m., sleep until 2 or 3 p.m. No alarm clocks, no distractions, just blissful rest. I loved it.

But somewhere along the way I had to switch my schedule to something that approximates the rest of the world's. I don't think I've been truly rested since then. I still want to be curled up in bed asleep at 9 a.m., not trying to be creative or witty or even coherent.

I think I am at least coherent here. If I'm not, don't tell me and burst my bubble. And if I'm boring you to sleep, don't tell me that, either! If I can't sleep, can't nobody sleep! Rachel8:46 AM