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.
Turn over!
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.
Shut up!!
Just saying.
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.
