Irony

My back has been giving me pain of late, conveniently getting worse after 1am or sometimes 3am. So I wake up and try to find a comfortable position, but sleep is hard to come by. It seems my lot in life is to find out how little sleep a human can get by on, long term.

Anyway, a typical mental habit of mine while lying awake and dealing with discomfort is to replay a song in my head. Usually, when very tired, I end up playing a single lyric over and over, often degenerating to a single verse. When my neural twitch problems were at their height, this led to my totally ruining my enjoyment of an album I had recently bought, Prolonging the Magic by Cake.

So last night I'm bouncing back and forth between thoughts about my back and music I've been listening to recently, and eventually fall into the rut of bopping over the same lyric over and over, when I suddenly realize what it is I'm 'singing': In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning as sung by Frank Sinatra.

I guess I better get a copy of It's Quarter To Three (the Fred Astaire version from The Sky's the Limit, please).