I sat in a 140-degree dry sauna last night for an hour. When I was done, I was soaked, looking like I had just stepped out of the shower. Seriously, I left little watery footprints across the floor. I thought, Man, oh, man, I’m going to sleep SO well tonight!
I cleaned up, moisturized, brushed, flossed (okay, I didn’t floss) and somewhere between spitting Aquafresh foam into my sink and putting on my comfy granny-panties, I became irrevocably refreshed.
“Ah, good. Eleven o’clock at night—what perfect timing for a second wind!”
I lay in bed, flipping this way and that. Turning to the right, drumming my fingers on my bed, huffing and turning over to the left, only to repeat the same action again a few moments later. I couldn’t even close my eyes—they kept darting across my ceiling, and all around my room.
“Why hello, Seven O’Clock. You sure did come quickly this morning. Could you be a lamb and tell Second Wind to kiss my ass?”
The bags under my eyes wouldn’t pass for carry-on items—I’m not kidding.