As I write these words, it is 11:34 p.m. In the last 24 hours, I've had three to four hours of sleep. When I was awake, I spent the majority of my time at the office.

Now I sit in front of my laptop in my apartment, a new column before me. Perhaps against my better judgment, I am drinking wine.

Welcome to the single life, people. Isn't it exciting?

OK, OK, so here's the truth: I ran out of ideas this week.

I ran out of ideas because I ran out of time to do anything.

I didn't go to any bars and I didn't go to any events. I went to work, I went home and I went to grab food.

I spent too much time falling behind on projects, falling asleep in my clothes with the lights on or falling over myself as I ran to catch a flight for a weekend trip. There's nothing quite like lugging your laptop from the gate to the shuttle bus to the hotel back to the bus and the gate again to make you think, “Wow, I just love my life.”

What can I say? Sometimes being single is the last thing on your mind.

I always wondered how the “Sex and the City” ladies did it all (jobs, friends, men). They had the benefit of being fictional characters.

Then I look at the friends I have who manage to hold down jobs, work out, shop for clothes that fit them better than mine ever fit me and date five different guys.

Well, I have one friend who manages all that. And last I checked, even she's getting tired.

Are we perhaps single because we're just so exhausted? If you're like me, in your 20s and living alone, a lot of time is spent focused on career, the next big step and when you can fit in time with your friends and family, who always ask why you're so withdrawn and tired all the time.

No one tells you that sometimes you'll be so busy you won't have time to worry about all the things you're supposed to worry about as a single person.

Right now, one of my five senses is processing the song I just downloaded to my computer. The sense is happy.

I'm thinking about the next kiss I will get, and when I will get it.

I avoid thinking that I should take out the trash, hang up my clothes and change the kitty litter.

I know by this time next week, other people's relationships will end and begin.

I'll probably still be here next week, a little more clear-headed, sitting before the computer screen.

I'll finish those thoughts later. Right now, my glass is empty.