Three-hundred sixty-five ...

... is the magic number of this post.

Meaning we have together reached a year's-worth of blogging in 479 days.

No comment on that, folks, except ... thanks to you for reading. Because it keeps me writing.

Even on days that come after nights (yes, another night) of insomnia against all best efforts. Including purposefully not drinking coffee after noon. Including a 60-minute workout followed by a 3-hour musical rehearsal followed by a brisk walk home and downing of a Harpoon UFO White.

(So do you think after 365 entries it's about time I created a sleep-related tag? Yup. Just did it.)

But. Occasionally I have been known to be OK with staying up way too late ... usually, but not exclusively, because it involves great sex.

Last night while lying there, in this case alone with the cats, imagining this morning's physical therapy session and how much fun lunges and crunches can be after a very short night, enjoying the drone of BBC World Service ...... WBUR broke in at 1:30 to report Ted Kennedy's death.

Based on his stature and my 10 years in his constituency, I must have been thusly relieved to be allowed a "where were you when you heard" moment .... and with that knowledge finally fall asleep.