The man knows me well

The scene unfolds something like this... I am sitting on the couch at 12:30 at night for the third night in a row, watching some horrible something on television. And I say to myself "self, why do you think you've had insomnia for three nights in a row?" And self replied back "duh, you are flying on a plane on Friday. Duh." (These are the kinds of existential conversations that occur when you haven't slept in several days.)

At 5:30 I was still sitting on the couch wondering when everyone else would wake up. When my husband finally arose, he asked "why didn't you come to bed again last night?" and then quickly said something like... oh yeah, you're flying tomorrow. I asked if he thought if I left right now, could I drive to Texas by Friday evening. He considered for a moment and then pointed out that I haven't slept in three days so that I would probably only make it to Ohio before I crashed. He didn't think the case of Diet Mt. Dew I keep hidden in my car would help.

Did I ever mention that I don't really like to fly?