Lionel Richie can party, Karamu, Fiesta, forever, All night long (all night), All night long (all night). Well, at least he did in his hay day. Now in his sixties it's more, All night long (til nine), All night long (with a nap).
I too used to party all night long. Now if I make it past 10 P.M. it’s an epic night. It’s not that the desire to whoop it up like a gorilla with its hair on fire has ceased. Unlike Lionel I’m not in my sixties thank you very much and this old mare still has plenty of party left in her. (Gorillas....mares? I have no clue what I'm talking about right now. I'm literally going on no sleep right now folks.)
My recent impediment comes in the form of a small blonde girl who lives in my house. SHE has been partying all night long—every night—for over a month. For some reason this child doesn’t sleep between the hours of 2 and 4 A.M. It’s horrid. I feel like the elephant from the successful campaign my friends Kathy and Dee promoted this holiday season. I’m the deflated elephant in this scenario—once a commanding beast, now grey and saggy and... deflated.
Until we can figure out what is keeping our night owl up hooting, the traditional hooting and hollering from her mama will be at a minimum. DD and I spent the night at a sleep lab last night in an attempt to solve this dilemma.
We’re currently awaiting the results. Hopefully we can get this resolved and get back to partying All night long, All night (all night)... or at least until midnight.
P.S. It’s hard to write when your eyes are crossed.
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