Editorial distractions and hot flashes and a dream about the elementary-school janitor and a snoring husband and looming classroom prep and tiresome fantasies about a flat tire conspired to wake me at 3 a.m. Now here I sit on a black Monday morning drinking an entire pot of coffee alone. Even the dog knows it's not time to get up yet. On the bright side, when I checked my email, I discovered an acceptance letter--"an ironic inventive essay," the editor called the piece, and "I do love your humor." Considering how humorless I was feeling at the moment of receipt, I found this comic, in a grouchy-old-man way.