I kind of hate and love when you’re just about to drift to sleep late at night when suddenly you’re bombarded with all this anxious, crazy energy. And you can’t just lie there without tossing and turning furiously, so I always have to get up and actually do something. Like clean, or organize ridiculously. Or finish the second half of a novel. Or study french. Or paint. Or glue photo-printed tiny paintings into buttons—over thirty of them.

This is exactly what happened last night. The whole sequence above, in order. Until almost four thirty, when I went to the kitchen to get food and instead collapsed on the living room couch (because, as anyone who has ever not been able to sleep knows, your own bed feels horrible by this point). And it’s been happening about three nights a week.

The good news is, I’m getting a lot of french done. And novels. And buttons.

PS—Matt. I want carved tagua nut earrings!