This week my sweetheart has been in Dallas for a teacher's convention: one of those hopped-up and over-hyped extravaganzas designed to bore the socks off even the most seasoned of teachers. Kind of like annual conference for pastors. Snoozeville, baby.
Anyway, I never sleep well when mama's away. Sort of an empty slot in the bed. I find myself awake at night, reading, reading, reading . . . trying to find anything that will put me to sleep. And I can't start watching Gomer Pyle reruns. I get hooked, and then before I know it, it's five a.m. and time for revilee.
It's these wee hours when I turn to academia. I go downstairs to my library and find the dryest, most arcane book on a subject that will surely put me to sleep. My favorite: How Brains Think--a science book by William Calvin concerning the firing of brain synapses and the composition of the gray matter.
Mr. Calvin does it every time. In no time flat, my brain don't think. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
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