My eyes open slowly. I realize I'm still in my chair. The lamp is still on, and there's a half-eaten pudding cup on the side table. I can see the first hints of dawn through the window shades.

When did I fall asleep? And how much am I going to pay for falling asleep in that chair? I reach for the Vicodin and shake out two tablets. I pause, put one back, down the other one, and mentally prepare for the morning routine.

Last night's sleep rating: B-.

No, make that a B.