So yeah, it's 3:10 a.m. and I'm awake. What of it?

I should be nice and relaxed. We spent two lovely weeks in Nova Scotia and PEI, sunning and seafooding and boozing and sleeping and generally unwinding. And yet here it is, the middle of the night and I'm wide awake.

It's guilt. Massive, raging guilt. 40 pounds of guilt. Well, maybe 38 if it's been a good dog food week. You see, we've evicted The Beagle from the bed.