I get a little pissy at 1am....

You know those "days" that you have? Not really super bad days where you drive past a cemetery and think "lucky bastards...." Not the kind of days that make you drink or cry or hit things....No, that would actually bring release and relief and you wouldn't be up at 1am, furiously pounding your keyboard while simultaneously eating nacho cheese dip straight from the jar. I am talking about the irritating days, the annoying days, the days that buzz and drip and drone and rub just enough to make you realize that you NEED comfort. You need to surround yourself with the things that make you happy and safe. And then you find that someone ate all the chocolate chip cookies, and your comfy sweat pants are dirty....AND THERE IS NO CONAN O'BRIEN ON TV ANYWHERE!! And there won't be any Conan O'Brien on TV for something like 81 days. Then you get this little facial tick, this little twitch in your eye. You can actually feel your heart pounding in your chest. It's not fair, a voice screeches in your mind. Not fair, not fair, not fair!!

And that is when the little selfish elf that lives in deep your brain tunnels his way to the surface. He isn't happy. He didn't want to share those cookies. He stamps his foot when he discovers no one else did laundry to wash the sweats. He is so impudent and childish that you hate to mention the Conan thing. The silence is deafening as he considers this information. His face turns from pink to red to purple while a huge vein pops out on his forehead. No Conan? NO CONAN??? As he screams his terrible rages, he starts ripping and throwing and destroying everything in his path. WHY NOT?? WHERE IS CONAN?? You explain that he had to leave TV for awhile, that it wasn't his fault, and that he will be back in November. NOT SOON ENOUGH cries the elf, now in a full-body fury, throwing furniture and ripping up family photos. I WANT HIM NOW!!! Amidst the tornado of feathers and torn paper and elfin spit, you realize that being ugly about it isn't going to solve anything. Calmly, you talk the elf down from the ceiling fan, offer him other cookies (not chocolate chip, but made in a hollow tree, of course) and gently coax him back into the deep recesses of your mind. Oddly, despite the the ruckus and the drama, you do feel a lot better. You decide that some things, some very special people, are worth the wait. You also decide to work on a better metaphor than the stupid elf thing, because it was pretty damn weak, even by 1am standards...