Oh, Sleep, Where Art Thou?

Forgotten by Hypnos (but not by Morpheus), I have finally submitted to the will of the gods. Black Paw tried his best to help me out, and O-ren curled up with me for at least an hour... all to no avail. Sleep eludes me.

So after 2 hours of counting sheep, sheering and carding their wool, and knitting sweaters for the poor naked sheepies, I have abandoned all hope and resigned myself to the comforts that only copious amounts of sliced cheese can bring me. well... cheese and high-speed internet.

And what does little e do at 4:30 am all by her lonesome? Why, read Emily Dickinson, of course. :) And so, before I continue my quest to buy 40 winks on eBay, I leave you with this poem of hers:

I Had No Time to Hate, Because

I had no time to hate, because
The grave would hinder me,
And life was not so ample I
Could finish enmity.

Nor had I time to love, but since
Some industry must be,
The little toil of love, I thought,
Was large enough for me.