There are worse things than insomnia, but right now I can’t think of many. 

Maybe I’m afraid I’ll have another dream about my stupid tadpoles growing legs and escaping their little habitat (I’ve had that dream twice now).  Seriously, does anyone know what happens if tadpoles don’t turn into frogs?  Do they just stay tadpoles forever?  It’s been four months, I think they’re defective.  Must write Uncle Milton in the morning.  When and if they finally do morph into real frogs I’ll have to feed them live crickets, which is kind of gross.  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they stayed like they are now-- two ugly little fish swimming around.  I should have asked for a hamster for my birthday.  Nah… the squeaking of the hamster wheel would keep me awake all night.  Oh, wait… I’m already awake.

I want a hamster.

Posted by Kristina in Essays at 12:43 AM Permalink