I don't remember when I first heard about this, but I do believe there is such a thing as sleep debt. Eventually, you get to bed. Maybe a few days of events that work against you were at play, but even a full night's sleep doesn't seem to fix it.
It all began with a little odd sound.
"What is that?" my unsuspecting wife exclaimed as she walked out of her office.
I brought her here. Convinced her to move to a farm. And there are days when I wonder if I stepped on her big toe while I smiled.
"Oh, there's no electricity," she finally said.
My mind put two and two together fast, fueled by caffeine and deadlines.
"The power transformer," I finally said.
Her face turned bitter, and understandably so.
It's almost mosquito hour, after all.
What is mosquito hour? I can almost hear you asking.
Well, I don't have proof of this, but I have no doubt. You see, all mosquitoes get together and plan their coordinated attacks right around the time the sun begins to set. Now, to these diabolical mosquitoes, who I'm told were forged in hell, a 
My wife and I glamp, if you will, since our house's windows have not been built yet. And thus, our home reads MOSQUITO DINNER in neon lights.
As you can imagine, I barely slept on Saturday. The violin-playing little bastards made sure that, even under the blankets, where I generated enough body heat to kill the nastiest of flus, they would stay no more than four inches away from my face.
You see, a respectable ten-inch distance was outside of protocol.
The next day, hope came.
A local technician showed up, and after using his MacGyver powers (this reference dates me), he was able to get the old thing working again.
Rejoice and bask in the rejoicement, I say.
"I can work," was the first thought in my mind.
The second: "I can charge my phone, too."
I began charging everything, including my happiness.
But the mosquito feast was not over. No, sir.
When night was about to visit us, the transformer made another sound. This time, it wasn't too loud, but it was loud enough for me to know that another crappy night was about to happen.
All of a sudden, the lights everywhere dimmed. Some never turned on.
One of the 110V lines had completely died, and the other one read 80 volts. In simple terms, if you want to explode your things, connect them. Otherwise, feed the mosquitoes again.
So, another blood sacrifice happened.
The technician showed up again the next morning. I'm tired, grumpy, and also broke.
He proceeds to tell me how things are not done right, as if he wasn't the one who had done them in the first place.
You can imagine my face. And also my words.
After changing the cables that come directly out of the transformer and adding new connectors, we were back in business.
This time, my faith in the old transformer was shaken, but at least it was early in the morning. I was determined to keep the technician around for at least an hour to make sure the darn thing would behave.
Finally, it worked for hours.
Night came. The fan was part of my life again. Sleep was back on the menu, and I was excited once more.
And then, right around 4 a.m., the electricity went out again.
"What is this?" I asked myself as the violin-playing resumed and the temperature under the sheets rose.
I got up, looked out towards my neighbors, and recognized Murphy.
He had visited us once more.
This time, it wasn't our transformer. It was the whole road. A main line had been damaged by a tree.
Sleeping was not going to happen anymore, so it didn't.
I was up and about, killing mosquitoes like a poorly trained ninja until the break of dawn.
My brothers and I went into town as early as we could. We found ourselves in the local bakery, surrounded by everyone and their mother.
Internet refugees, of a kind.
Most of the people who live around these parts work online, and thus, no electricity meant no worky worky.
I said hi to at least 50 people during the hours I spent at the bakery stuffing myself with expensive caffeine, as one does.
Finally, at 1 p.m., the electricity was flowing down our road again.
I went home, picked up my dear wife, and we went to have lunch together. I didn't feel like cooking, and honestly, the contents of our fridge should be questioned.
After a nap, I'm back online. A little tired still, but with missions, and yes, I'm talking in plural, on my mind.
I'll try to catch up, but I know that even if I want to, sleep is going to get me earlier. And maybe that's OK.
After all, I'm not trying to add more to the debt.
MenO