i invited sleep over for a little bit. just six or seven hours, i wasn’t greedy. i extended this invitation and sleep has not bothered to respond. sleep is taking a lesson from too many people in my life and ignoring me. clearly sleep and i are not on speaking terms once again. i haven’t even had any caffeine since this afternoon. which means sleep is being the bitch, because i was good.

really, i was good. i was in bed, lights out, all warm and snuggly in my flannel cave. i even had my eyes clothes and patiently waited for sleep to arrive. but it hasn’t showed yet. maybe it’s just gonna be late, but that still annoys the hell out of me. sleeps knows that i am impatient and the longer it takes to get here the louder the voice in my head gets.

and the more the voice in my head gets to talking the harder it is to keep my eyes clothes and patiently wait for sleep. the voice just goes on and on talking about XML and DTD and SVG and CSS and jodiML and the voice just goes on and on rehashing the events of the day.

then the voice starts going on about edna st. vincent millay. the voice keeps going back to that scene in the book where norma talks about how vincent taught her to mastubate. how vincent came home one night and told norma about this little piece of flesh between her legs that she should rub and rub until she can’t stand it anymore and then just keep rubbing. which makes me laugh. then the voice thinks about poetry and marrying an artist when she’s 31, just like vincent did only vincent didn’t marry an artist, she married a business man but she was still 31 when she did it. then the voice says maybe i should just get up and write this all down for posterity.

so then i get up and turn on the computer and i think why? what’s all this for? is this for posterity? no, this is for my own general amusement. because really one day will i go back and print out all of the archives that make up iwilldare.com and give them to my grandkids? really would i do that? will the web still exist when my grandkids are around? and will they really want to read about how their grammu was a lonely, horny, bitter late 20-something at the turn of the century?

then i start to think about why it is i do this. why i always address my darling ones. which is a rip-off of a replacements song, but you knew that didn’t you darling ones? and really, when i think about my darling ones, you all look like fisher price little people. not the new-fangled ones who actually resemble people, but the old-fashioned ones with wooden bodies and plastic heads. the ones without arms, legs and gender. yes, my darling ones are rows and rows of little people with painted on faces.

so then the voice got to thinking about little people and how much i loved the fisher price sesame street that my aunt eileen had when she used to babysit me and sister #2. i loved the mr. hooper little person with his green wooden body and white plastic apron. i loved all the sesame street little people monster things. then i got to thinking about how i pronounce aunt awnt and ant like most everyone else i know. we all say awnt and not ant and i think it’s because when i was a wee little kid my awnt jan said that i should call her awnt and not ant because she’s a person and not a bug.

at this point i decide it might be best to just crawl out of the flannel cave and type all this as fast as my fingers can go hoping that it will quiet the voice in my head and that maybe once she’s quiet sleep will sneak in and apologize for being late and rest comfortably in the flannel cave with me. so now that i have sated the voice i will play repeated games of solitaire until my eyes grown heavy and sleep beckons.