All-Nighter...?

I had planned to stay up all night long last night to get caught up on my NaNo novel (http://www.nanowrimo.org/ ). I had pumpkin chocolate chip cookies and hot chocolate and a blanket and I was all pumped and ready...!

I collapsed at one in the morning.

I can't do it. I love sleep too much.

I remember my last moments before I finally succumbed and crawled into bed: my head was on the keyboard and chocolate-y drool was coming out of my mouth as I desperately tried to keep my eyes open. I had given up typing by then. I was lost in despair. My breathing was heavy and ragged. I kept thinking that I was going to die right then and there, and I couldn't even muster up some energy to die with dignity.

My dad came up from downstairs and saw me in my sad, sad state. In a voice that would scare death itself, he said, "What. Are. You. Doing."

I squeaked a little bit. "Pulling an All-Nighter?"

Blink. Blink. "What?"

Whimper. "An...All-Nighter?"

He glared at me. "You do know it's past one o' clock in the morning, right?"

I nodded, eager to please him now that the death and anger had left his voice.

"And you know you have to wake up and babysit in the morning. Right?"

"Yeah..."
"Okay. As long as you know." He then went into the bathroom.

At this point I decided that he was right. I was exhausted and I wasn't getting anything done. So I climbed into my bed. My bedroom is like ice. The walls radiate coldness. I shiver and shiver until I fall asleep. It's a good thing that I have an electric blanket or I would probably freeze to death. But actually probably not because I'm a survivor.