Heart on my Sleeve

     Last night, I slept horribly. I tossed and turned and waged war on the mattress. After two hours of battling my ever whirling mind, I said screw it and sat up from 3:30 to 4. If I was going to be up I might as well be productive, I thought. So I finally copyrighted this blog and did some research on Autoentrepreneurial status in France.

     But sleep did not come.

     I am so stupid giddy excited about seeing the Berkeley Frenchie that I slept like a five year old on Christmas Eve waiting for Santa, which means to say I hardly slept at all. I probably finally konked out around 5 am and then woke up at 7:30 am. A disco nap is going to be in order.

      Oh boy.

      I confess that I am probably more Charlotte York than I am Carrie Bradshaw and my romantic streak sweeps me away  ( though trust me, I've gotten FAR better than I used to be! ).
This streak of mine doesn't affect my standards though, so I confess again that I'm a choosy beotch about who I invest my time and energy in, which means I don't do so often. Which also means I think this one worth it. Quite possible very worth it.

      Oh lordy lordy, I need to cool my sh*t.

     I've never been good at playing poker face.

     But this is going to be so much fun anyway! 

     I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve.

    Deep breath.