It is evening, two hours before your normal bedtime. What do you suppose is the worst thing you could do? How about a little nap?

You go to bed at a reasonable hour, after your unplanned hour-long nap. You lie down to bed with what you believe to be a great recipe for sleep, a book you’ve already read once and a drowsy head start. Only, it isn’t such a tasty recipe after all. Now it’s almost two hours after your bedtime and you’re still wide awake. You’ve decided to get up and fill that pit that diet has dug in your stomach with some delicious looking frosted animal cookies. It’s only after you’ve eaten the last one that you wonder if a healthy dose of sugar mixes well with insomnia.

So be it.

Your next stop is your trusty computer. You decide to show your desktop Mac some love with a little long overdue attention. Having been in bed so long, and the night being so well advanced, the click of the keyboard is deafening. This is when you realize why you so often prefer your PowerBook, the elegant feel of the keys under your swift touch. You wonder if it’s like a musician trying to play a high school band instrument after playing for years on a Stradivarius. There is simply no comparison. You wonder if it would be worth the investment to upgrade the keyboards around the house.

The eMac that you woke from sleep, and then eschewed for your trusty PowerBook, has returned to sleep. The fan cooling its innards has turned off, returning the room to near silence. Your only companion is your insomnia and the strangely addictive chatter of your keyboard. It almost becomes a kind of conversation, you interacting with the keys.

You have returned to that place where you last slept; your feet up, reclined on the living room couch with your PowerBook in your lap. You hadn’t intended to recreate the moment, but you note the occurrence when you begin to grasp that elusive sense of coming sleep.

Before returning to bed, you wonder if your attachment to a computer is a sign of a shallow nature, a nerd at heart, a discerning consumer, or all of the above.

Now for a little math. You function best with eight hours of sleep. Seven is almost as good, but the seams begin to fray. Getting six is a precursor caffeine abuse. It is pushing midnight and I’m getting up at 5:30. Say, how long has it been since I’ve called in sick?