Why I feel compelled to do this is beyond me. And why I further feel compelled to post it on Linguini is even more baffling. Yet here we are. It’s a quarter to three…
Well, actually it’s 3:15 a.m., but Set ‘Em Up Joe is running through my head right now. That, and I’m So Tired by the Beatles: “I can’t stop my brain.”
This is what I do lately in the middle of the night. It’s too late to take anything to help me sleep and still be up to help with the dogs. And lying in bed with my brain running amok is extremely dangerous.
So I get up and play Spider Solitaire until I win. Only sometimes I win too quickly and then what?
So tomorrow I will be compelled to nap. I haven’t napped since I was two. My mother used to try to make me nap, but I’d just sit there. You could always tell when I was truly ill if I fell asleep during the day. Then I’d be, like, 103 degree fever ill. Other than that, I’ve never napped.
What is it about the middle of the night that makes everything worse? The only difference between now and during the day is the light. Yet every problem is magnified in the dark and my perspective skewed. I can’t conjure up optimism at 3 a.m. Some primal fear of the dark, I suppose.
I envy Dirtman’s ability to sleep anywhere at any time. He sleeps so deeply nothing wakes him up, short of me yelling and shaking him. And he never dreams – not that he remembers, even when he first wakes up.
Me? Even when I’m asleep, I wear myself out in my dreams. From 11 p.m. to 2 a.m. I’m busy, usually looking for people or things. No, there’s nothing cryptic in my dreams. I spend the night gathering everyone together to leave for…wherever. But someone is always missing and I’m in a panic that I’ll be compelled to leave them behind. I wake up exhausted, but unable to fall back to sleep
Which is where we are now – me and Zsa Zsa, my nursemaid.
I’ll post this and probably wake up tomorrow morning and pull it back down. But I’ve always tried to keep Linguini honest and, honestly, this here is part of the daytime zaniness.
So make it one for my baby
And one more for the road.
5 comments:
Apparently when you and I sleep we channel an Australian Shepard....constantly herding all the daily frets.
Melatonin, anyone? Usually gets me a good five hours before the mental herding begins.
You gather the people, I'll pack the bags. My dreams always involve frantic packing for some hurried getaway in which I either forget, or lose, my purse. I get the same sensation in real life when planning for a tornado watch.
Try Sleep-Aid, over the counter at Wal-Mart...my husband swears by them and they're supposedly non-addictive.
At 3 AM every stupid thing I've done during the day, and during the last twenty years comes back to haunt me. So I get up and start reading trashy novels as hard as I can until I'm exhausted or over the fretting spell.
Shit Jean.... You and every other person w. a conscience goes through the same shit. Ain't nothing but a low while your inner person decides what to do next. Remember, its why our highs are so good. Its what drives us to strength and improvement. (At least it does for most of us.)
trasherati: I may actually try that, having investigated it a little. Or maybe I'll try it on the Aussies first...
gwynne: Is that Wal Mart brand? I don't do Wal Mart, I'm afraid.
leslie: Yup, and considering the level of stupidity here in Linguiniland, you can imagine my dilemma. I'll give trashy a try. Or one of Dirtman's endless Civil War battle books.
DG: Oh, I know that now because now is 6 o'clock in the afternoon. At 3 a.m., I'm the only person on the entire planet. Well, except for Zsa Zsa...
Post a Comment