I am very sleep-deprived this week, and therefore unable to write a coherent post today. I blame Harry Potter. The kids convinced me that seeing the newest Harry Potter at 12:01 am on the morning/night the movie opened was a tradition in our family akin to getting a Christmas tree. (I think we did it once before).

So, we did it. We got tickets to the midnight show Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, and after a half hour of technical difficulties, we sat through twenty minutes of previews, and the two and half hour movie.

I think I got home at 3:30am.

I did surprisingly well at work (and night school) the next day, only felt foggy at times, which is I guess kind of normal since I got just shy of three hours of sleep.

But it has all hit me today. I feel like I’m being dragged slowly through sand.

Was it worth it? Yeah, I guess so. More for the time spent with my teens (one of whom squeezed my arm black and blue just waiting for the theater doors to open, while squealing, “I’m soooo excited. I can’t tell you how excited I am,” and then proceeded to tell me again five minutes later how very excited she was. The movie was good. I’d like to see it again when I’m coherent. And not sitting so close to the screen in a packed theater.

But then, these are life’s little joys. When was the last time you stayed up past 2am for something? Was it worth it?