I am so darned tired.

I can't figure out why exactly - I was in bed just after ten last night, giving me 8 hours of sleep.

Minus the half hour it takes my lovely bedmate to put her brain in 'Stand By' for the night. Lisa needs to download all the million thoughts in her head out of her active memory before she's able to go to sleep, and does so by spilling them all into my ear once we've laid down to rest. I don't mind at all - it's like a daily communication guarantee - but it's something I never remember to factor into my sleep budget.

Minus the time it takes me to fall asleep once Lisa has dozed off. Once her evening verbal recital is done, Lisa is always asleep in minutes. I take anywhere from five minutes to a half hour depending on a wide range of factors. Hunger, stomach cramps, rumpled sheets, funny pains in my toes, annoying itches in unreachable areas, sirens, distinct sounds of hyper cats smacking into the exercise machine. It doesn't take much to keep me awake.

Minus time spent adjusting for room heat. One benefit of cinderblock walls is heat retention. One benefit of large windows is rapid heat loss when they are opened. Unfortunately, these two factors cannot be balanced in any consistent fashion. It's always one or the other. Open the window. Close the window. Push the duvet off the bed. Untangle suddenly awake and frightened cats from duvet pile. Pull duvet back on bed. Straighten sheets messed up by duvet antics.

Minus time spent dealing with the vagaries of my own mind. Some nights it's a song on endless repeat, like the 'Everybody, everybody!' song at Homestar Runner. Some nights when I've got a new video game to obsess over, my brain decides to give me slow-motion replays all night long. Lately it's even taken to waking me up a few times between 3 and 5 o'clock, convinced that the alarm went off and it's time to go to work. It's always something.

Come to think of it, I think I know why I'm so tired. I must be working too hard.

I'm now known as the 'Sea-Monkey' guy at work.

For Easter, Lisa got me the new 'Sea-Monkeys on Mars' kit, and I've got it set up at my workstation. There are a million of the little buggers in there now, swimming around happily.

I love Sea-Monkeys. We had a batch at home a couple years ago, but I wiped them all out with a disastrous water change. Reminder to self: Algae is good for Sea-Monkeys.

It's not a bad thing to be known for in the office. Everyone has a little 'thing' they are known for by the rest of the staff. Renee has her drawer full of candy, and Anika has that dress that makes her look like a fuzzy bumblebee. Tony is a weather forecast nut, and Dave has his little penguin slide play set that makes such an aggravating chirping noise when he turns it on. Oh, that and the multiple Tupperware containers of food that are evolving new life forms under his desk.

Being known as the Sea-Monkey guys isn't so bad. At the newspaper, I became the Star Trek guy after the pictures of me helping with the opening night promotion of Star Trek: Insurrection appeared in the Arts & Style section. (Yes, I was in costume. If you ask me nice, I'll explain why it's made of sequins.)

It's better than the shtick I was developing - that of being the 'Human Garberator'. After the canned ham incident, and the time we all went to a Vietnamese restaurant and I was the only one able to consume an entire giant noodle bowl, I was getting a bit worried.

On Survivor: Tomorrow is the merge, and this is when the fun really starts. It's funny that the producers didn't try to fool us on this one like last time. It's just, 'Ho hum, another merge. La la la.'

My pick to get the boot: Rob. He's annoying and cocky and stupid and I don't like him. Boot!

Mom Rating: 3 out of 5. Mom thinks I should be known for my excellent work habits, rather than my choice of cubicle pet.

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Take me home, big fella