Night time is the right time

I was awake most of the night with cramps. (Those herbs? The ones that are supposed to reduce heat? Well they get the blood flowing, all right...) I've never been afflicted with the debilitating cramps from which some poor ladies suffer (back at Landon Junior High, it was rumored that Tiffani Krug spent days curled up in bed. Whether she actually suffered from debilitating cramps or just wanted a good excuse to get out of Social Studies we'll never know. I mean, she used to go home twice a day to shave her legs.) but last night it felt like the lining of my uterus was being ripped from my innerds. At 3 am, after several futile minutes of trying to convince Tinkerbell that my tummy was the best place for her to sleep, a book title popped into my head. It was perfect. Pristine! Not since "He's Just Not That Into You" had there been a title that so encompassed one person's experience:

"How I Slept My Way To The Middle; Or Why I Am Not Famous"

Yeeeaaaah! Right? Right?