It's 4:29 a.m., and I've essentially pulled an all-nighter. I think it's been a decade--at least since graduate school--since I've done this, and well, I'm not as young as I used to be. It's enough to make this weary publicist even wearier.
I didn't intend to stay up all night (or morning--I'm confused). It all started yesterday morning, when my husband's alarm went off at 4:45 a.m. I managed to go back to bed until 6:30 a.m., when his taxi driver called and apparently couldn't get in our gate. And called and called and called, all while poor Mr. WP was walking around the community trying to find the wayward taxi. Meanwhile, the dog was already stressed out, needed to go out, was blocked from the stairs by the cat, and gave up and puked all over the floor. By 7 a.m., I figured sleep was futile.
So, I wandered down to my computer and started working. And with the exception of a quick four mile run, I worked straight through to 7pm, when I left for an amazing night of music--U2--with 75,000 of my closet friends.
I left super keyed up, so what did I do? Worked some more. Until 4 a.m. And here I am, at 5:17 a.m. and unable to fall asleep.
Did I mention that this weary publicist is supposed to run eight miles today?
Logging off and hoping sweet dreams find their way to me!