I wasn’t going to do anything intense this month. I mean, yes, August is always the month when my creativity comes back like dandelions in a suburban lawn – profuse and persistent – but this morning (yeah, you read that right: morning) my muse, or at least the creative part of my brain is also downright persnickety.

I mean, it’s 6:43 in the morning and I’ve been up for more than an hour, which would be great if I actually WANTED to be awake, but I don’t. I want to be asleep, curled up with my husband, who, as I type this, is blissfully snoring away on his side of the bed.

It’s really kind of unfair.

Especially since I took half a dose of Benadryl at 1:43 this morning so I could breathe, an amount that typically renders me unconscious for the better part of a night and into the morning.

Tonight, though? It wired me.

So for three-and-a-half hours i tossed and turned and tried every trick I know in order to lull myself to sleep, except singing myself a lullaby, because everyone knows that if you’re the one singing you just wake up more.

Look, I know – I know – I shouldn’t be complaining about having so many projects firing up my brain right now, especially since I have friends who aren’t even getting postcards from their muses, let alone actual sparks or ideas or insights. And really, if I could give them just a couple of hours of this weird energy, I totally would.

Frankly, I could use the break.

Or at least, I could use a nap.

But instead of sleeping, I’m typing this in the dark (I like to write in bed.) And of course – of course – now that I’ve decided to be productive, sleepiness has come oozing back in, enticing me with its siren call.

“Melissa,” it says, “come back to bed. You know you want to.”

I refrain from pointing out that technically, I’m still in bed. Sleep doesn’t really care for the facts.

So I give up. I’m letting sleep have a second (third, fourth, twelfth) chance. I’m clicking “publish, and then I’m turning out the light (again) and nestling under the covers (again) to try and ignore the snores from Fuzzy that are adorable when I’m wide awake and infuriating when I’m trying not to be.

Insomnia.

My fickle muse’s new best friend.