Who cares about dreaming? I just want to sleep! But my failure seems in direct proportion to the energy that I pour into the task.
That’s right, lol – I said “task.”
I begin each night with an hour of “The Golden Girls”. Silly, I know, but I love these ladies, and they never do anything gruesome that will follow me into dreamland. We can’t say that for “Cold Case”, right? Learned that the hard way.
By midnight , the girls have had the last laugh, and it’s down to business, television off, alarm set, fan on high. If I get serious about this, I can catch four hours before wake-up time.
Two pillows, three blankets, socks – I am comfortable on my right side, yes. Good. Alas, the mind is not comfortable, and so it begins . . . What was the balance in my checking account this morning? I gave Johnny the debit card and told him he could get gas, did I bounce? Aaargh, please no.
My little nocturnal voice demands an accounting. How I can be working sixty hours a week and worrying about a bounce? I don’t know, pestiferous one, go to sleep.
But my shoulder hurts, turn over.
No, you’re fine.
All right, it’s nice here on my back, even though if I drop off, I’ll snore and wake myself up.
Only twenty-eight carbs today, that’s not bad. I should be losing weight, wonder why I’m not. I’ll be the only woman in history to do the Atkins for three months and not lose an ounce. Sue the assholes.
Hush up, go to sleep.
Maybe if I count. Deep breaths, count of three. But that’s more a hypnotic state than actually sleep, and that’s kind of weird, isn’t it?
What was that! Is there a wild animal in the room? Oh wow, that was me snoring.
Turn over. I can’t believe I was asleep and didn’t know it.
Only one o’clock ? Okay, three hours, then. I can do this. Except my feet are hot. Take the socks off, who wears socks to bed?
But I’m tiiiiiiireeed!
Take them off!
Fine, but now I’m going to lay on my stomach and I don’t need two pillows for that. Throw one on the floor and shut up, go to sleep.
THE ELECTRIC BILL! What? I paid that, didn’t I? No, that’s right, the laptop shut off in the middle of that, and then we got a call, and I never got back to it.
The call was a nightmare. Why do the biggest people always call 911 from the upstairs bedroom? I hate it that we couldn’t get the cot straps around him, maybe we should get a bariatric cot. Right, when pigs fly.
Where on earth did that phrase come from?
Well, pigs do race. Northern Ireland hosts pig races every year. How do I know that?
I used to drink a lot on Saint Patrick’s Day, but not anymore. Really, not ever, because it hurts my esophagus. Should maybe get that checked.
When I get insurance. Or Obamacare. I didn’t like Barack until the Osama victory, and then I loved him for the look of quiet triumph on his face.
He looks like a camel. Shit, is that racist? No, it’s just creative license.
Well, that’s all right then.
I don’t mind at all that my sweetie snores. It seems kind of sweet. But I do hate the long pauses in between.
Is he still alive? Hush up, don’t listen to it.
Despise laying on my stomach, hurts my back.
Writing a blog is harder than I thought it would be. Light and chatty, not quite my style. The pen name is kind of fun, though.
Hell, kind of goofy.
You, little voice, are kind of goofy. Just sayin’.
Oh wow, is that the alarm? I was asleep!! What was that, maybe two hours, off and on? Pfft! I’m good to go.