“Hi, wake up! It’s your stop.” I was jerked away by my husband’s half-amused voice. Bleary-eyed and still foggy, I looked around and realize that he had already pulled the car over in front of my office. Signed, I struggled out of the car. I must need one or two double-shot espresso to kick myself fully awake.

I really should have slept earlier. Last night was his poker night. After several years’ marriage, I already stopped waiting on him every time when he came home late.  However, I still couldn’t fell into a deep sleep until he came back. So I indulged myself in Fringe---one of my favorite American series. It gripped me so much that I gradually lost track of the time. With sheer willpower, I stopped myself from fast forwarding to find out when Peter could find out Oliva and Oliva Nate had switched places. It was over 1 o’clock when he finally came back. Somehow, despite my exhaustion, I was still unable to sleep, meaningless thoughts after thoughts kept jumping into my mind, crowding the least idea of sleeping out. I spent hours lying awake until I finally drifted off.

Running on pitiable little sleep, fueled by two espressos, I started my work. It was a glorious day outside. The sun was shining. The world was a vast adventure begging to be exploring. Yet I sat in my cramped cubicle and dealt with paper works.

Be patient, I pep talked myself, next week you would have a wonderful four days beside the beach, surrounded with the people you cared and loved most. What more could a woman ask?