I confess that I spent the night sleeping on the couch. My husband was (and hopefully will no longer be when his alarm goes off in a few minutes) suffering from what is either a migraine or the flu (his have the same symptoms), and either way, neither of us sleeps well in the same bed if he is sick. But my brother in law (who I really am glad is visiting) is in the other bedroom. So couch for me, because I am not about to make my guest sleep in the living room, where the degus will be up running around all night. Turns out that the brother in law has some late-night cough that echoes throughout the house.
I confess I am a bit of a zombie today. But when am I not, really? I feel like at least 50% of the time, I'm blogging from the throes of insomnia.
I confess that while of course I should not have made my guest sleep in the room with the degus that stay up till all hours (they're supposedly diurnal, but really, they operate on a cycle of doing whatever they want whenever they want, and this frequently means running on their wheels until 3 a.m.), I confess that I'm more glad that I didn't subject my poor pets to someone who would be coughing all night once they actually settled down to sleep.
I confess that I might take a nap soon.
I confess that though I'm wide awake, the house is still completely dark because the degus are sleeping and I don't want to wake them up early. Yes, I am one of *those* pet parents.
I confess that while it's bad for my eyesight and my posture, typing in a pitch-dark room while reclining on a seriously comfy couch is pretty cool. Or maybe that's the insomnia talking.