It was getting late. Maybe 11:30, maybe 12:00 or 12:15 on the outside. He had promised himself just one episode of x then he would go to bed. But one episode became two, three, four(?). There was a scotch in there somewhere and multiple bowls of Rice Krispies. He shut the the Netflix down, and the weather Chantel appeared on the screen, and the time shown in the upper left corner of the screen: 2:07. “Fuck”he thought “there’s no way”. He glanced at phone “2:07” his apple watch “2:07”, looked into the kitchen at the clock on the stove “2:08”. “Shit, shit, shit” this was not the plan. What happened to reading, what happened to going to bed early, what happened to not getting up at 10:30 and feeling like he had slept his entire Saturday away. He turned off the TV, stood, laid on the couch, thought maybe he could fall asleep quick, get 5-6 hours and be okay. But as he lay there after turning off all the lights, checking all the doors, feeling warm and easy from the scotch, he knew, knew clear as day that he was way overtired, way overstimulated and sleep was not to be had.