Go to sleep. Listen. This is not your time. The night time is around you, a muttered susserence of contentment. The deep and regular breath of dreams dreamt deeply. Take the thoughts that keep you awake and place them gently in a small velvet lined cot. They will be ok. They will still be there in the morning. The night is a long exposure photograph. A neon streak that circles your town humming softly. Take that drifted stillness and make it a lullaby. Whisper it back into the night. Close your eyes and be still. This is not your time.
Mosquitoes kept me up Saturday night. I love our porch, but the mosquitoes are a blight. Last night, we kept the light on and I got some blessed, blessed sleep. We've got more bug spray for the door now, which helps, and Jon agreed to come in at dusk. One or two bites are no big deal, but I've got over a dozen bites! I can't stand it no more, I tells ya, can't stand it.
May I recommend a long, long afternoon nap. Naps are the best.