I’ve a repuation for being quite the insomniac. Why sleep… When I could simply put it off? I procrastinate thoroughly and thrive on the gut-wrenching urgency of deadlines. The deadline-high is probably the reason I like working for a newspaper so much. If something doesn’t need to get done this particular instant, well, why even bother?

My boss at the lovely Highsmith University Union suckered me into taking a 9 hour, 6 PM til 3 AM shift at the info desk yesterday/this morning. Okay, it really didn’t require any verb as devious as “suckering.” The prospect of cash is a stimulant almost equal to that of a deadline. I happily agreed to 3 more hours of mindlessly occupying the spinny chair situated at the building’s main entrance.

Block Party — one of UNCA’s annual school year kick-off traditions — commenced tonight in the Union parking lot. The cover band’s rather mellow nineties tunes kept me awake for a good chunk of time. By 1 AM, however, I was becoming unhinged. A lady kindly offered me a bottle of bubbles, a souvineer from the little shin-dig. Cheap, blueberry scented bubbles. They kept me entertained for the rest of the night, simply because it took about 15 tries to produce a bubble willing to part with the wand.

Being on such public display for 9 hours straight forces me to come back to my room and unwind before finally retiring. By unwind, I mean, sit on my floor with a laptop and perform inane Google searches, you know, like my own name.

Thanks to this blog, I’m linked to on Wikipedia now. Isn’t that fabulous? Whoever did that — Thanks for making me feel like a star!

I remember the days back in high school when Googling my name in quotation marks yieled just about nothing relative. It was depressing, let me tell you.

So anyway, happy 4:41. I am going to go to sleep, I promise.

The next time I answer the landline, that’s what I’m saying.

Details, later.

Current pet to people ratio in the Culbertson household…

5:6

… plus the possibility of puppies.