There’s a corner of my brain that likes to hang out at parties, because I don’t sleep. And, as Janis said “I don’t sleep. I might miss a party.”

Thing is, though, she was in her early 20s, and I’m 40. Definitely hitting that stride where hanging out may become either cool or completely pathetic. I guess I hope it ends that I’m more Timothy Leary eating marijuana crackers and living the high life on the Internet than June Allyson hawking/wearing Depends. But, frankly, it could go either way.

It’s not a great portent that I feel like shit from allergies to whatever is free floating in the air. So, I’m at a party with that cramped pre-sneeze face and hoping my nose doesn’t start pouring liquid.

I doubt had Janis lived, she’d be gulping down Benadryl and debating whether to have a cup of decaf tea.