I don’t have enough fingers on both of my hands to count how many times I’ve been told by strangers to smile. I think I really started noticing it one incredibly breezy day in November of last year when I was told three times in one day. Do I really look that miserable? I mean, I’m not going to walk around town with a smile plastered on my face, but I’m sure I don’t look depressed to be alive.

Regardless, it’s a thoughtful notion and I appreciate every single person that’s taken the time to tell me to smile, or cheer up. 

As for now, Bedhead has been playing for the past hour on my now-officially-broken Logitech speakers. (I guess the speakers popped or something because I can’t even raise the volume up much.) And a soothing cool breeze is coming in through my window. But, as usual, sleeping is the last thing my body wants because all of my attempts to fall asleep since 9pm have failed. I even started counting sheep, and got to 36 when I felt myself doze off, but re-awoke only 10 minutes later to count about 100 more sheep, and having it not work that time.

So I’m going to do the rational thing: make myself some hot chocolate and read until my eyelids give up.