Not a Princess

Last night after an evening out, I returned to the structure formerly known as "home" but which is currently taking a turn at "wanna-be crack house" due to our imminent move. I am not entirely certain why I continue to lock the doors. I am though, entirely certain now that I am not a princess.

Apparently, at some point during the night, I rolled over and onto my hairdryer. You might think that laying on a large and oddly shaped piece of plastic might have disturbed my sleep, or at least given me nightmares of marathon blow-out sessions. Nope. Slept like a baby—actually, better than a baby, since I managed not to poop or pee myself.

So there you have it folks. I am not a princess. I am a sound sleeper though. And while not quite as glamorous as being royalty, is still something of a small victory when you live in city. And I take my victories--and my sleep—where I can find them.