Draft

3:47 AM I type, feeling off right, my nine ounce plastic cup bubbling over with Airborne and Umccka, oregano oil and Emergen-C. Thought maybe I'd sleep through the night, but woke up finding myself wrong.  The kettle is on, the salt and cayenne ready to mix with the boiling water, soon to meet my throat.  Chewed some sombucal and a Coldeze QuickMelt.

A friend said I can manage my money.  Another friend corrected that I'd rather use the time to write.  Up now, approaching the legit magical middle of night hour of 4, I want to be healthy enough to write. Money is nice, but it doesn't pay the poems.