Coffee won't help.

I'm trying to remember how I did it. Quite a few years ago, during the earlier seasons of Survivor, (you know, reality TV--put people on a jungly-beach and watch them act stupid,) I wrote a humorous online column, re-hashing--through my own fractured filter--each episode.

I'm not really sure how I wrangled my brain into cooperating. See, I'd watch the show from 8 to 9 p.m., then--within roughly an hour and a half--I'd spin out a sufficiently clever synopsis that at least a few people around the globe (I got emails) would come back for more on a weekly basis.

I'm not a night person, is the thing. So that wasn't easy. And, right now (9:50 p.m. Toshiba time,) I'm testing to see whether I can still formulate sentences after dark. The reason I want to know is that there are generally 2-3 hours per night that I spend awake, alone, and wondering wtf. Jeff goes to bed at 7 or 8, depending on whether I have something on tv with which to engage him. Then, I spend the next couple hours either websurfing, tv-surfing, or just sort of otherwise lost in space.

I tell myself I'm too tired to do anything much. And I think it's true. Making intelligent decisions about which objects from the hall closet go in the throwaway or the giveaway bags is not something I'm willing to do with half a brain. Nor would I care to attempt my "real" writing project, half checked out. But I'm not ready for bed, and--with the right topic--I might just be able to reactivate my columnist neural network.

By the way...THIS is not the right topic. This is just practice. And I hear a problem. Footsteps. This means that Jeff woke up enough to go to the bathroom, and--when he is done--he will get back into bed diagonally or maybe even upside-down, such that I will have to shove a bit (creating further disorientation) when I try to fit. Furthermore, he will have his hands under his head with his left elbow sticking halfway across my pillow. I might be able to re-shape him, like Gumby, but I might just cause havoc. So, make sure--if you're a couple, and one of you is planning to become cognitively impaired--to buy your queen bed now, and not still have a regular old full-size (like I do) when the time comes to sleep in it all crooked.

So, how about that? Writing after partial brain shutdown. It would be appropriate if there were a glowing light, slowly pulsating off and on on my forehead, to indicate that the hard drive is not quite up and responsive. I guess Survivor lends itself to commentary by the alertness impaired. I'll have to make note of future topics that could be similarly impervious to nonsensical rambling.