Once again, the world changes....
In walks Ginny with a bottle of wine, which she insists we finish, so we do.
The wee hours are spent in girltalk and giggles, and tipsy e-mails to people who might be amused by them. My underlying morose is pushed to murky depths.
At three am, we pack in, as we're working tomorrow.
"Cybbie? Can I sleep with you?"
Do I say Yes?
When do I not?
Not much sleep, but no nightmares, either.