Back at the Bean

I'm back in my place at the Naked Bean. It's 6:40, and I'm the only one here. 

(In the interest of full disclosure, a police officer and an old lady walked in right after I typed that.) 

I still haven't gotten up the nerve to ask the barista her name. I did say, "Oh, look at that! A blue mug today." And she said, "For real. Enjoy." It's very suspenseful, isn't it?

Next week, on The Naked Bean: Will Suzy get over her crippling fear of introductions? Will her and the barista become life-long friends? Who is the sketchy-looking man sitting in the shadows in the corner of the shop and why is he wearing a police officer's uniform? Does that woman over there take her coffee black? It's non-stop drama and scandal in Canada's favourite coffee shop soap.

Seriously though, I'm running on about four, maybe but probably not five hours of sleep (I gave up counting after the third time Sullivan woke me up last night). It was the kind of night where I couldn't fall asleep to begin with, even though I was seriously tired, kept looking at the clock, finally dozed off around 12:30, woke to the little guy with the big lungs at 1. Slept another two hours, up again. Slept an hour and a bit, up again. I was tempted to sleep in this morning and skip the Bean, but I've done that before and been really sad about it. 

Sometimes you need sleep, sometimes you need to just suck it up and do something. Sometimes sleep just makes tiredness worse. 

Anyway, I should get back at it. I'll talk at you later.