Boo and Hiss and All that Jazz

Coherency is not my strongest suit this morning. Sleep and I are long-lost friends. We are briefly reunited each night, but not for long. It beckons as I burn the candle at both ends. I'm running out of wick. I'd like to hibernate. Perhaps tonight.
Of course, this is mostly my own fault. And I'm blissfully happy. This weekend, Aunt Sylvia came for an all-too-brief visit, on a quest for antiques. Someone bought out most of her stuff at Carlsbad's "Keepin' Up with the Joneses" (voted Best Antique Shop this year), so she needed to get stuff for the booths she shares with her wonderful friend Deborah. Of course, Syl brought ME an awesome bed to refurbish, and I think I got more stuff than she did at the flea market and the antique stores. But we had fun. And as she relaxed, I rode a wave of creativity. I made my friend Pam some Rosie-the-Riveter-inspired pillows for her new couch and stuff for the Boho Babes Boutique. On Saturday night I stayed up baking (and cleaning and re-cleaning) in preparation for a little Sunday-night get-together (just under 30 guests, I think). Sunday night Audrey, Pam and I stayed up late laughing about a guy we know who looks like a baby T-Rex. And though I should've been sleeping, I just had too much fun. I don't get to see any of my aunts often enough, and friend Audrey will be back to MO much too soon. Who needs sleep? You can sleep when you're dead. Or married. (Just kidding, married friends!)
Last night's lack of sleep, I'm afraid, was all together another matter. Yesterday I discovered someone had torn my mailbox down. Now, after the break-in, I really didn't feel too awful. Yes, I missed the jewelry, and find it a pain that my door still doesn't match my house, but these are little things not worth complaining about. But seeing my poor little mailbox smashed to the ground is another point entirely. Last night, I was afraid I was going to be murdered in my sleep. Thievery is selfish. Vandalism is sinister.
Add to that anxiety (based not only on my safety, but also regarding how I'm supposed to receive mail before my sweet brother has time to help me install the new mailbox) the little visitor outside my window. It wasn't a person, thank heaven, but yesterday morning I discovered a bat sleeping just above my back door. Edmond, I think I called him, yesterday. He looked like a little, chubby, charcoal-grey rat. And I thought Bertha the Chicken was awful! Edmond was creepy! I didn't know how I was going to send him on his merry way without him giving me rabies. This morning, fortunately, he'd gone, but now there is a bird perched in his place. I'm living "The Raven." Nevermore, nevermore.
Today I am alone in the office. It's very tempting to go sit in the massage chair and take a power nap, but who naps at 9:15 a.m.? And I don't want to sound groggy if someone calls. It's just not very professional. I am frightened, but I think my perspective would benefit greatly from 40 winks.