Early one November morning...

May I begin by saying that I love mornings. I love being alive in the mornings. Everything is still and fresh and wonderful. I don't love people in the mornings though. It takes a cup of coffee to prime me for any sort of conversation, and at least a few sips of coffee before I am capable of forming the words "good morning." Functioning on 3-4 hours of sleep was common at Ave after about 4 cups of coffee (o! all those nights of delirium when I forsook my bed and it despaired of my company!), and at grad school I have so far experienced this.......... once? Perhaps twice. 
Once for sure in late November, just after my Ave visit and just before Thanksgiving.
Now, I must point something out before you look at the sketches below.  I have named my Unconscious "Puck".  Sometimes we get along, sometimes he is contrary, sometimes he defends me, sometimes he plays pranks, and sometimes he is just plain insufferable.  He does not usually make his presence known first thing in the morning.  He does have a way of exerting himself, however, when the conscious and rational me is somehow at a disadvantage.  And one way to be put at an awful disadvantage is to wake up, before the alarm goes off, when I have only had 3 hours of fitful slumber....

(He was jumping up and down excessively. My next action is totally justified. No coffee yet, remember? I mean I haven't even gotten out of bed, as you can see.)

(I first drew these pictures that very morning, in my notebook, in my Child Psych class. As I was drawing myself strangling Puck, my prof began talking about how "sometimes to find out what a child is unconsciously feeling we ask them to draw a picture" ...)

Later he went on to make fun of my sweatshirt...