A Brief Holiday Update

I was on the phone with my mother, working out the Thanksgiving details, when she interrupts herself to shout, "Now THAT'S what I think about it."

My dad is the background laughing hysterically, so I ask my mom what's going on over there.

"Well," she tells me. "Your father and I were having a disagreement earlier, so I pooted at him. But, it was just a small poot, so I saved up a big one until just now so he would know how I really felt."

We have fun.

Moving On

I've really missed writing in this blog, but my brain has seriously been getting in my way. This is an example of a recurring problem of mine. I'll start a project, such as writing about the trip to Ireland, but I'll lose interest along the way, usually because I procrastinate for so long that I get tired of thinking about it. However, I refuse to allow myself to move on to anything else until I finish the original project that no longer motivates me. So, I end up accomplishing nothing, paralyzed by my own stubbornness.

While I'm feeling energized by a big change in my life, I'm going to try to break out of some old habits, including this one. So, here I am, tippity tapping out my optimistic little thoughts about not being so self-defeatingly weird. I'm sure I'll fall back into old habits eventually, at least to some extent. My hope is that each time I resolve to make some change it will stick at least a little bit, so all the time I'll be getting a little better without worrying about being perfect right away. I'm sure I'll become a transcendently flawless creature given enough time, and you'll all worship me as a deity, but let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Anyway, I plan to be back shortly. My new job should generate some interesting stories. I'll probably wrap up the epic Irish journey, as well, just in the interest of neatness. Of course, I'll just bloviate pointlessly when I feel the need. So, there's that to look forward to.

TGI Monday

I have a very unhealthy relationship with weekends, and I'm usually glad when they're over. This weekend was typical.

Friday evening The Husband and I celebrated our anniversary with a fancy dinner and a bottle of champagne. I stayed up way too late and had a little too much to drink and woke up around noon on Saturday slightly hung-over. So, I huddled on the couch like a big inanimate lump until I fell back asleep around 3. I didn't wake up until dinner. Of course, then I felt all groggy and did nothing but loll on the couch some more. I couldn't fall asleep until late, so I woke up late again on Sunday, and the whole cycle started again.

I wake up with a headache from sleeping so late, so all I want to do is lie around feeling sorry for myself. Getting up and acting like a person instead of some sort of pre-motile protoplasm would make me feel 100% better, but the longer I allow my butt to fuse with the couch the stiffer and achier and more depressed I feel, which makes it exponentially harder to accomplish the simple task of putting on some shoes and going outside or picking up the phone when someone calls wanting to do something fun.

My problem is just unvarnished laziness, but once the week starts, even if I don't have a work assignment for the day, I feel the need to get up in the morning and accomplish at least a few small tasks to justify my existence. Even then I usually wish I had done more with my day.

My lack of self-discipline makes me feel bad about myself, and then feeling bad about myself makes me depressed, and then feeling depressed makes me want to lie around and mope, which totally wrecks my self-discipline, and so on and so on and shooby dooby doo wah. Any one up for delivering the swift kick in the ass I obviously need for being so pathetic?

Since y'all are probably all at work or busy not being pitiful, I'll give myself the inaugural butt kicking. Right this second, I am firing up the woefully neglected elliptical machine and getting some freaking exercise. Then I'm going to close the laptop for the rest of the day until I've achieved at least three productive things. I'm pretty sure internet withdrawal isn't fatal, but I'm going to risk it.

Pro Choice?

"Choice" is a loaded term in our society.

"Choice" is used to shame and dismiss those who have the misfortune of being poor, uneducated, powerless. It doesn't matter that all the choices available to you are bad. Once you've made your choice, you're expected to shut up and live with it.

"Choice" is an unassailable right if you are well off. What you eat, drive, spend your money on - it's your choice and no one has the right to criticize your choice. You're entitled to your choice.

Surely there are irresponsible choices, selfish choices, stupid choices?

I'm struggling with making the right choice.

Put simply, I don't like working outside the home. I have a good job working for a cause I believe in for a very fair salary. My boss supports me and works with me to be sure that my position is fulfilling to me and allows me to use my strengths for the good of the agency.

Despite all that, I would be more happy staying home and cleaning, gardening, and cooking. The Husband and I live rather frugally and could probably afford for me to either stay home or work part time. We'd have to give up a some luxuries and save less money, but we could make ends meet. The Husband is also very supportive of me, and is encouraging me to do what makes me happiest.

If I were to make my preferred choice, I would quit my job.

I suppose I have every right to make my choice, however, why should it be a valid choice? Why should a perfectly capable person refuse to support herself? Isn't there something to be said for sucking it up and getting over my over-privileged self? By critically analyzing my own choice, might I be, by extension, judging the choices that others might make? Oh, Heaven, forfend!

Can you imagine a single mom making minimum wage or a subsistence farmer in Africa having this internal conflict? How gross are my stupid little problems? How ridiculous is it that I feel as much stress over the validity of my concerns as my actual concerns? How about another glass of wine?

Oh, thank you, I think I will.

Best Withdrawal EVAR

I somewhat involuntarily took myself off the Lexapro, and let me tell you, it is going GREAT.

The night before Thanksgiving my prescription ran out. My pharmacy was closed until Friday, but I knew going without the crazy pills for couple of days wouldn't be a big deal. However, when I called for my refill, I discovered that my doctor's office never called it in. At first I freaked out and started making frantic phone calls. But, I already had an appointment scheduled for tomorrow, so I figured I'd just see how it turned out.

Whatever havoc I've accidentally wreaked on my brain chemistry has resulted in relentless optimism and excessive enthusiasm for just about everything. Yay, everything!

At first it seemed I had achieved a surprising level of mental stability and emotional maturity. For example, see my very reasonable post about my employment issues. Then I thought I was just feeling cheerful.

But now I'm having trouble falling asleep because I'm just having so much fun! lying there, thinking about stuff. My mother-in-law brought over some persimmons, which I had never tried before. When I tasted one, it was so excellent that I exclaimed out loud, all alone in my kitchen, "Persimmons! Fuck yeah!" This evening I noticed that it was 6:30, so I pumped my fists in exultation that it was 6:30! All right, 6:30! I don't know why.

I sort of feel like I just got off a roller coaster - sort of giddy and wobbly with a funny feeling in my stomach. I can only imagine I'm veering into some sort of drug withdrawal induced mania. It's really fun, but I'm glad I have a doctor appointment before I start skipping around the neighborhood naked, tossing flowers at everyone. Except they're not really flowers. They're like, rubber bands or something. You know, because I'm ker-RAY-zee.

A White Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving was especially excellent this year since I got to share it with 14 members of my family - the biggest crowd we've had in years. We were just missing a couple of cousins and uncles who are currently spread across three continents. By Christmas, however, they may all be back in Texas, at least for the holidays. I can't wait.

As remarkable as the family fellowship this year was the weather. It snowed all afternoon.











The day after Thanksgiving my parents and I have a tradition that we cook our own dinner with all our favorite dishes so we can keep all the leftovers for ourselves. One of the downsides of having such a large family is that the leftovers are spread thin even after a huge dinner.

We had (clockwise from the top) squash casserole, crescent rolls, corn casserole, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, Quorn brand turkey substitute, dressing, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, sauteed green beans, wasabi deviled eggs, with mushroom gravy all over everything.



Not pictured is green bean casserole with cream of mushroom soup and french-fried onions because that's just gross. My dad likes it, though. Also not pictured because I forgot is my mom's fruit salad, which is particularly delicious since it's made with peach pie filling. For dessert we made pumpkin pie and cherry pie and homemade whipped cream. We also enjoyed a nice Sauvignon Blanc and then had to drink a pot of coffee to revive ourselves.

Pretty much every Thanksgiving is like this, and I look forward to it all year. I like Thanksgiving way better than Christmas. It offers all the same opportunities to eat too much and hang out with family and take time off work without all the shopping - a truly ideal holiday.

The Return of Random Photo Friday - Paternal Edition

Here's my dad. He's great.

I remember when my brother and I were little, he taught us how to catch crawdads in the creek behind our house with a piece of twine and some bacon. He also made us bows and arrows out of sticks and kite string.

Sometimes when we were falling asleep in the back seat, he'd swerve the car just a little to see if he could make us bonk our heads on the window.

I'm not sure who it was, but someone gave him some snake eggs, and he had the idea to hatch them in our yogurt maker. One day we woke up to a yogurt maker full of hatched snake eggs and no snakes. Turns out yogurt makers are not appropriate devices for post-hatching baby snake containment.

My grandfather used to raise small ponies/large miniature horses. They were more or less feral, but of course I always wanted to ride them despite the fact they were nearly impossible to catch and not trained to wear a saddle at all. Being such a brilliant child, I told my dad I thought I could ride one if it came near the fence and I jumped on it. Being such a thoughtful dad, he suggested I try it.

I did get one leg over the black one and good enough grip on its mane that I managed to hang on as it sprinted half way across the field. When I finally fell off in a pile of rocks and weeds, my dad came running over laughing so hard he could barely stand up.

I remember my dad laughing that hard another time. Just after my 17th birthday, I got my driver's license. As my birthday present, my parent's had our old VW bug painted purple for me. My very first act as a new driver was to pull the car, with its brand new paint job, off the street and into the garage. As my family stood in the yard watching me, I popped the clutch, and the car, with its brand new paint job, jumped the curb and hit a light pole.

One time my dad got to the post office too late, and it was closed, so he cursed, "poopsticks." I still crack up when I think about it.

ETA: I can't believe I forgot about this one:

In junior high I really hated P.E. There was very little actual exercise involved, and changing clothes seemed like a stupid waste of time. One day I was whining at my dad before school, asking him to write me a note so I didn't have to participate in P.E., and he said he would.

Several minutes later he asked, "How do you spell 'weenie'?" For some reason this did not seem particularly strange to me.

When he gave me the note, I just stuck it in my pocket and didn't think any more about it until I was on my way to P.E.

Fortunately I opened the note before I gave it to my teacher. The note read, "Please excuse Unruly from P.E. today. She is a weenie."

Whoops

Gamble I'm Not Willing To Take

From time to time my reluctance to have children is completely validated.

I caught the beginning of the Diane Rehm show yesterday morning about parents of teenagers and adults. The phrase "endless despair" was used. Oh please, sign me right the fuck up to inflict endless despair on some young person. And if I could get some of that endless despair for myself as well, that would just be peachy.

Now I know that not every family experiences anything like "endless despair." I adore my own family, and I think they're the kind of people I'd like to hang out with even if they weren't related to me. But I get so completely sick of people trying to convince me that I need to have babies - that I'm screwed up or misguided if I don't want to.

Here's the kicker. I LOVE babies. I worked in childcare for seven years, and I miss being around babies and little children. Sometimes I crave the smell of tiny fuzzy heads and tiny squishy hugs and tiny little yawns on tiny sleepy faces. Teeny babies are awesome. Funny, smart, weird little kids who are learning about the whole world for the first time are awesome.

I would have one in a minute if the universe could absolutely guarantee me a few things.

That being pregnant and giving birth would not injure me, kill me, or inflict fascinating new mental illnesses on me.

That my child would be healthy enough and stay healthy enough to grow into an independent adult.

That nothing would ever happen to The Husband and force me to be responsible for another human being all on my own.

That I would always have all the resources I needed to take care of my child.

That my child would be a basically happy, well adjusted person who didn't suffer from anger or sadness that I couldn't understand and I couldn't fix.

Of course the universe can't guarantee me a damn thing, and if those are my conditions I shouldn't be a parent. I may be selfish or lazy or soulless or whatever child-having people would like to accuse me of, but I'm not ignorant and I'm not careless, and if that's the best I can do, I'm okay with that.

Unhinged Duckling

Well it's official. I've gone a little nuts. As in "on meds" nuts.

Professionals don't call it "nuts" of course. I'm experiencing an anxiety disorder.

I guess it was earlier this year when I first started to notice that my brain was going a bit wiggy. Normal, innocuous things would give me a momentary panic. For example, my "you have a new email" message would pop up while I was working, and I'd get a surge of adrenaline as if someone had jumped out at me with a knife. But, I wouldn't actually feel emotionally frightened. I would wonder, "WTF, body? Calm down. It's just an email." Over time, these strange startles would happen more often, and it would take longer and longer for me to calm back down.

In the last couple of months I started waking up early in the morning, an hour or two before my alarm would go off. While I was lying there, trying to go back to sleep, random thoughts would occur to me, such as, "I should probably water the plants today." And that would be all it would take to panic me. I would get a horrible sinking feeling in my stomach, and my heart would start to beat faster, as if I just realized that my neglect of watering the plants would have terrible consequences. Every little thought that popped in my head would cause this reaction until it felt like being shocked over and over by electricity. My arms and legs would be tingling with adrenaline by the point it was time to get out of bed.

In more recent weeks, I have been walking around with an almost constant sense of worry and dread. The simplest tasks at work seemed completely daunting, so I started avoiding them. I was taking random sick days and spending too much time surfing the internet instead of facing what needed to be done. Of course, that just made me fall farther behind and heightened my stress. All I wanted to do was hide. I was starting to lose my ability to function.

My regular yearly check up was last week, and I discovered I have one of the best doctors in the world. I'm swathed in a paper gown, and she comes in and asks how I've been doing. I told her, "...well, I've been better." I was so reluctant to bring up this big issue about how I'm crazy and all when I was just supposed to be having a check up, but she sat right down in a chair across from me and said, "Let's talk." Relief just washed over me as I finally said out loud what a hard time I'd been having, and she told me how common this issue is and that she could definitely help me feel better.

So, hopefully some drugs and a shrink will do the trick and I can go back to feeling like a normal person again instead of a paranoid tweeked-out spaz.

My Name is Unruly Duckling...

...and I'm a televisionaholic.

There was a time when I thought it couldn't happen to me. I remember when I was too busy to schedule my life around TV shows and using the VCR to tape them was too complicated to be worth it. Commercials filled me with so much existential dread that I could feel myself losing the will to live every time I watched Friends.

My slow slide towards rock bottom started innocently enough. The Husband, back when he was The Boyfriend, purchased for me in honor of my birthday or Christmas or some such holiday (at my request, I admit) the first season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It was wonderful - an excellent show I could watch whenever I felt like it with no commercials. However, boxed sets of DVDs are freaking expensive, so my urges were kept in check.

So it would have remained if not for the wicked offspring of the intertubular cyberweb and the U.S. Post Office - NETFLIX! Suddenly, without ever leaving the house and at a reasonable price, I could procure as many television shows as I could stuff in my eyeballs. I gorged myself on old favorites (Star Trek: TNG! Kids in the Hall! Absolutely Fabulous!) and caught up on all those awesome shows I never had time to watch when they were on the air (NYPD Blue! The West Wing! Homicide: LOTS!) Kooky stuff (Strangers with Candy!), dorky stuff (The History of Britain!), bizarre stuff (Twin Peaks!) It was all there at the click of a mouse.

I had no idea it could get worse, but someone just had to go and invent the DVR. Now, with our homemade "TiFaux" we could record 24 hours of shows every day if we wanted to. I am never without pretty moving pictures to point my eyes at when I should be doing something else. Right now we have weeks worth of Jeopardy, The Simpsons, and Seinfeld saved up. I've been avidly following The This Old House Hour. Sometimes we even watch (I can't believe I'm admitting this) American Idol.

I am officially totally out of control. The Husband and I are moving in 2 weeks, and I have only managed to pack 3 boxes because my grueling schedule of TV-watching leaves me with very little free time. I mean, Lost and Heroes and Veronica Mars and 30 Rock aren't going to watch themselves, now are they?

Maybe there's a support group or something that I could join.

My Days as an Accomplice

I used to work for the guy featured in the Justice Department press release below. I was actually an officer for one of his subsidiary companies that dealt with a specific sort of investments. While I was involved with the company it wasn't making any new transactions, and I handled very little money, but my name was all over it. There was a point when I was losing sleep over the possibility of being dragged into the scandal despite the fact that I knew absolutely nothing of any interest. However, I hadn't thought about it for ages until an ex-coworker forwarded me a link to Mr. Kornman's guilty plea.

The main company - for which I also worked - went bankrupt a few years ago due to an unrelated lawsuit by a former executive, but Kornman continued doing business under the name of a different company. If a cheated ex-employee hadn't brought the company down, both litigious, disgruntled clients and a pissed-off IRS were poised to do so. In the end, it was the SEC that really did him in.

This was my first job right out of college. I started there as an executive assistant. Although I knew the firm did some sort of financial consulting, they didn't give any details about their activities until after I had signed about 100 pages of employment contracts. I wasn't crazy about the idea of working for a company that helped rich people avoid paying taxes, but I believed that they were just in the business of giving legal advice - the operative word there being "legal". Knowing what I do now, that was rather naive of me. I truly do not believe that I directly performed any illegal or unethical acts, but my karma took a major hit being associated with that place as long as I was.

At least it motivated me to give up my life as a corporate cog, and I'm much happier working at a nonprofit now. I certainly hope the good work I do my best to accomplish will outweigh the time I spent aiding and abetting - even in a small way - an admitted liar and cheat.

	U.S. Department of Justice United States Attorney Northern District of Texas 1100 Commerce St., 3rd Fl. Dallas, Texas 75242-1699
			Telephone (214) 659-8600 Fax (214) 767-0978
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE		DALLAS, TEXAS
CONTACT: 214/659-8600 www.usdoj.gov/usao/txn		APRIL 10, 2007
LAWYER / TAX ADVISOR ADMITS MAKING FALSE STATEMENTS TO THE U.S. SECURITIES AND EXCHANGE COMMISSION DALLAS --- Gary M. Kornman, age 62, a licensed attorney, licensed securities professional, and tax advisor, pled guilty yesterday in federal court in Dallas to one count of making false statements to the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC), announced U.S. Attorney Richard B. Roper. The maximum statutory penalties the Court can impose are five years in prison, a $250,000 fine, and restitution. He is scheduled to be sentenced by U.S. District Judge Jorge A. Solis on July 11, 2007. According to the indictment, Gary M. Kornman was an officer of The Heritage Organization, L.L.C. and was a licensed attorney who held Series 6 and Series 63 securities licenses. He operated and controlled Heritage Securities Corporation, a securities broker-dealer registered with the SEC. Kornman sold tax shelters and estate planning services to wealthy individuals and was responsible for the management and operations of Heritage. According to documents filed in Court, Kornman participated in a voluntary telephone interview with investigators from the SEC on October 29, 2003 regarding its investigation into suspicious trading activity engaged in by Kornman. During that interview, Kornman told the SEC investigators that he did not know who possessed trading authority over the brokerage account for a hedge fund through which he engaged in trading activity in MiniMed, Inc. stock in February 2001. MiniMed was a company that was, until its acquisition by Medtronic, Inc. in August 2001, a publicly traded company whose shares were listed on the National Association of Securities Dealers Automatic Quotation National Market System (NASDAQ). Kornman’s statement was false. He knew that he personally possessed trading authority over the brokerage account for the fund through which he conducted the trading activity in February 2001 that was under investigation by the SEC. In addition, Kornman admitted that he made the statement intentionally, knowing that it was both false and material to the SEC’s investigation. Kornman also admitted he made the false and material statement for the purpose of misleading the SEC in its investigation into his MiniMed trading activity. U.S. Attorney Roper praised the investigative work of the Securities and Exchange Commission, Fort Worth Office, and the Federal Bureau of Investigation. The case is being prosecuted by Assistant U.S. Attorney Jeffrey J. Ansley and Special Assistant U.S. Attorney Toby M. Galloway of the SEC. ###

Things I Secretly Think Will Kill Me

1. Ovarian Cancer - I'm pretty sure that the whole Irritable Bowel Syndrome thing - the bloating and the pain and what-not - is actually a fatal case of ovarian cancer. I expect to find out when it's too late and to die a particularly dramatic and touching death.

2. Abdominal Aneurysm - If it's not ovarian cancer, it must be an aneurysm. In which case, it will burst suddenly, killing me without warning. Everyone will be left shaking their heads, muttering, "What a waste. She died so young and beautiful."

3. Bird Flu - I have crap lungs. One of them spontaneously collapsed recently. If a deadly respiratory disease sweeps the globe, I will definitely be one of the first to go.

4. Brain Tumor - One time, I think it was in Reader's Digest, this guy wrote about how the first symptom of his brain tumor was how when he scratched the back of head it sounded like scratching an empty cardboard box. I totally have that, right behind my right ear. Again, I won't be diagnosed until it's too late and I'll linger heroically for some certain amount of time until I succumb in a heart-breaking fashion.

5. Horrible, Mangling Car Accident - This is the one that I really believe is going to kill me. I guess maybe this is why I have so much respect for the admittedly inconvenient tendency of The Husband to refuse to get a driver's license.

6. Also, diabetes. Not very dramatic, but it gives me the motivation I need not to spoon powdered sugar directly into my mouth 24 hours a day.

7. Strangely enough, NOT cirrhosis of the liver, despite the fact that I'm drunk right now.

Something is Wrong

I haven't really been able to articulate it, but I have not been doing well lately. I wonder if it is possible to be depressed without really feeling sad. For a couple of months now, everything just seems so hard. I'm getting no exercise. I have no motivation to cook or get things done around the house. I don't even feel like taking a shower in the morning (although I do). I'm constantly late for work, and once I'm there, I'm unproductive. On the weekends, I don't want to get dressed or leave the house - not even to go on the back porch and water the plants. One Sunday morning The Husband and I were getting ready to go somewhere, and I was mumbling and grumbling. When he asked me what was wrong, the only true answer was, "I'm awake."

However, my mood seems fine, except for my frustration with myself and my pathological laziness. The Husband and I laugh about stuff together. I enjoy spending time with my friends when I manage to make it out the door. I have a couple of projects going, although none of them require much energy - mostly knitting or writing. My appetite is more than fine, and I'm sleeping well, both of which were serious problems when I have been depressed in the past. I just have no energy.

What is doubly frustrating is that a few months ago, I felt like I had all my stuff together. I was super efficient at work. I was getting lots of exercise and felt fit. The Husband and I were cooking nutritious meals full of organic fresh vegetables. The checkbook was balanced. The house was clean. Then all of a sudden I felt like I hit a brick wall, fell on my butt, and couldn't get up again. I'm an emotional Mrs. Fletcher.

Scarred for Life

I'm about four-years old, and I'm sitting in the waiting room of the pediatrician with my mom. The room is crowded, and I'm nervous about sitting next to someone I don't know. My mom is encouraging me to go ahead and sit down. "Come on, they won't bite," she tells me.

It never even occurred to me that someone might bite me.

I panic.

IBS = TMI

I have Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS). I don't really like to talk about it because I find the word "bowel" extremely off-putting and embarrassing. Fortunately I don't have a serious case, and it's usually only an uncomfortable inconvenience. Occasionally, however, it is extremely painful. What happens is that the muscles at some point in my intestines go into a spasm, and nothing I ate or drank earlier can go through. Sometimes when the affected area is in the upper portion of my abdomen, it presses against my diaphragm and makes it hard to breathe.

I found out I have IBS after a trip to the emergency room several years ago. I had always suffered from a touchy digestive system, but after 3 days of unremitting pain, I was afraid something had gone terribly awry. The good news was nothing was seriously wrong and I wasn't facing imminent death from gastric torture, but the bad news was that IBS is a chronic problem, and it might never go away completely.

IBS is often the reason that I don't make it out to social events and I just stop answering the phone. It gets worse with stress, so after a crappy week at work I often have a lot of pain on Friday night - just in time to wreck any going-out plans I might have had. One of the things I regret missing most was Ann T.'s engagement celebration. I was flattered to be asked, and I was really looking forward to the wine tasting. But I had to cancel just hours beforehand because it hurt so bad. Once I missed an interview for a job I really wanted at the Writer's Garret.

I do have medicine that helps, but it makes me feel slow and stupid and gives me a terrible dry mouth. I also can't drink when I take it, so it puts a definite crimp in my social style. Lately, as I had to take it more often, I found that it would wear off sooner and sooner, leaving me with 8 hours of pain to cope with until the next dose and no other options to try.

However (and I'm probably jinxing myself), I haven't had any problems in over a month. The main difference in my habits is that I've starting doing yoga once a week. I've tried exercising and eating better in the past to help reduce the symptoms, but this is the first month I can remember that I didn't have any pain at all. I usually have flare ups around that time of the month, so we'll see in a couple of weeks if I just got lucky or if I've actually found a way to deal with this condition without the drugs and the ruined plans.

I'm still a big flake and might not answer the phone when you call, but at least I'll be ignoring you because I want to. :)

Story time with Grandpa

My grandpa told me this story when I was really little, and sometimes it pops into my head at the strangest times.

Once there was a little girl who had a jolly old grandfather with a long gray beard. One day the little girl asked her grandfather, "When you go to sleep at night, Grandfather, do you tuck your beard under the covers with you, or do you keep it on top of the blankets?"

The grandfather realized he really wasn't sure. He never thought about it before. So, he told the little girl that he would pay attention when he went to bed that night and tell her the next day.

That night, as the grandfather settled into bed, he tucked his beard under the covers. That didn't feel comfortable, so he thought he must leave his beard on top of the covers at night. However, when he untucked his beard, that didn't feel right either. He spent all night tucking and untucking his beard, trying in vain to remember where he usually kept his beard while he was sleeping.

He didn't sleep a wink that night, or any other night ever again, until he finally died.