The gym plus residual effects of insomnia kicked my ass last night. I could barely muster enthusiasm for my shiny new laptop -- which is neither shiny or new but very functional. I did manage to unpack it and install the wireless internet card and Final Draft. I don't plan to wipe the OS; it's clean the way it is.

When I close my eyes I see Spider Solitaire. My brain moves cards from one stack to another in dark perpetuity, red nine on black ten back to red ten, over and over until I drift away. Sometimes, like Monday morning, I don't drift. Sometimes I just lie on the couch and watch the sun come up hoping that the next leap will be the leap home. Or that my brain will let me win this one last game.

This is what happens when I don't drink before bed. My brain is like a sharp stick poking me awake.

Luckily I have Tully's coffee to lift me from the zombie muck and mire. $1.75 for a grande cup, no room for cream, better than Starbucks or Seattle's Best. Snatches of AWAKE in a paper cup, cardboard sleeve, white plastic lid, staining each tooth caramel and I don't care.