Finally made it upstairs.

I hadn't slept upstairs since, what, November? October? Things were strained, so I spent time on both the first floor and basement couches. Mainly because I had insomnia, so would watch TV until all hours until my lids pulled a mutiny and closed over my eyeballs.

I can't tell you how many times I woke up to Steve Harvey yelling at me for this or that. The other night it was a rant about the memo about him not addressing anyone on his staff. Or allowing them to look at his face. I'm guessing that was either a rerun, or that dude's got a super slow burn. Also, I had to question if I should look at the TV—if I made eye contact, was Steve gonna jump through the screen and throttle me?

An aside: Almost every girlfriend I've had (save one) still gets along with me. For some of them it took awhile—the longest was almost 20 years until we made peace—but eventually we do get along. I'm a difficult boyfriend at times, and certainly a problematic ex, but ultimately I am a good dude. My long history speaks for itself, yet so many don't know my long history.

Anyway.

So, last week I finally decided it was time. To sleep in the bed. So I did. And it was incredible! Have you slept on a couch for months and months? It is terrible!

More importantly, I'm sleeping upstairs now.