I’d like to thank my children for jolting me awake so often (and in such traumatic fashion) that not only do I avoid going to sleep when I’m home, I avoid going to sleep when I’m gone. 

Because you just never know when someone’s gonna scream bloody murder in your ear from a night terror or whack you upside the head with a gallon of milk at 3:00 a.m.
Even seven-ish hours away.
(I also have yet to turn on a hotel T.V. in 2015. You know, ’cause it’s quiet and all.)

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