Today I'm grateful
I like to sleep in late.

Ben Franklin: inventor, writer, statesman and pussy hound. Everywhere this attractively challenged guy went, he had women lifting their petticoats for a peek. (No wonder he invented bifocals). One evening a lady rubbed his fat belly and flirted, “if this were on a woman we’d know what to think.” Without missing a beat, dirty old Ben replied, “half an hour ago mademoiselle, it was on a woman and now what do you think?” Who knew Ben was so sassy? All I know is that I would’ve been immune to his charms because he said, “Early to bed, early rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.” Sorry Mr. Franklin, no matter how big your lightening rod is, we couldn’t be together. This girl likes to sleep in late.

Friends can’t understand why I own a full set of blackout curtains, but no where near a full set of silverware. Stop by my place at 8am and you’ll find it’s a dungeon in there -- stop by my place at 8am and you may also find a left hook to the jaw. Thankfully, I’m not alone. Science shows those annoying morning people are actually wired differently than us late-night types. The Journal of Biological Rhythms (something tells me you can’t find this publication in the Publishers Clearing House catalog) says early risers have motor pathways that are most excitable at 9am. Conversely, night owls seem to be most awake at 9pm.

Now I know why my brain is all Rip Van Winkle right around the time most people are firing on all cylinders, solving Pythagorean theorems, while doing their third sudoko for the day. I’m grateful I get to sleep in late because my brain works differently. My grey matter starts kickin’ in right around the time I’m having my first round of after dinner drinks. I'm fine with this. (I'm sure Dean Martin or any other dead rat pack guy could back me up on this one.) While Ben Franklin wouldn’t have been a love match for me, I just keep looking for my perfect guy, a nice inventor, writer, statesman and vampire.

I’m grateful I like to sleep in late.




Forget about rainbows and unicorns, I’m grateful for double martinis, single men and pretty much anything covered in chocolate or cheese. This gratitude journal is anonymous because the stuff that tends to fall out of my head and land on the page makes HR departments cringe -- and guys lose my number.
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