Last night was my third night in a row of insomnia. My brain won't let me sleep. I'm not even thinking of anything in particular. It's not like That Big Sales Meeting is coming up or something. I'm going to try the Tylenol PM tonight. It doesn't always work; sometimes I take stuff like that and my body fights it all night, and I lie there with my heart pounding laboriously with my mind in a fog.

It's times like this that I think if I were a regular mammal, my weak-ass eurotrash bloodline bloodline would have died out long ago. If my family members were gazelles or something we would only have survived this long through an amazing series of coincidences and luck. No way a group of anxiety-prone gazelles with extreme near-sightedness, bad feet, and sensitive stomachs is going to last long in a savannah full of hungry lions.