Shows are over and I am happily at home, on a Monday night, wearing comfy sweats and drinking chamomile tea, trying very hard to calm down enough so that I can go to sleep by ten and get 7.5 hours of sleep before I have to wake up for work. For past few weeks, insomnia has been running roughshod over all my good resolutions to eat healthily, take care of myself, get organized, and be kind and loving to fellow human beings. Insomnia tends to cause overconsumption of espresso brownies, an increase in spills and lost items and disorder of all kinds, and sullen crankiness towards all. Not to mention a distubing blurring of the always faint line between reality and otherwise.

Spent last night NOT watching the season finale of The Sopranos and had to find out what happened by eavesdropping on people on the bus. 362 days a year I don't mind...

Latest addition to gallery of Insane People Who Frequent My Coffee Shop:

Little old guy with shock of flyaway white hair and very unsavory teeth who came into the store and launched into a non-stop, thirty minute, top of his lungs tirade that somehow managed to tie together CNN, the Catholic Church, Israel, Karl Marx, the FCC, the CIA, the FBI, the misuse of radio waves, artificial sweeteners, Dwight Eisenhower, and a whole string of expletives.

I kind of admired his passion, if not his delivery.

But then, as my supervisor was escorting him to the door, he shrieked at her,

"I hope you get aborted!"

Now that is just plain rude.