Saturday, May 19, 2018

Sleep Is A Strange Bedfellow ...

I made pasta for lunch yesterday. Maybe that was the problem.

My brain was uncooperative in the afternoon. Focus? What's that?

I threw in the towel at 4 p.m. and headed for the couch.

I'm not sure what time I fell asleep but I awoke in darkness with the sense that it must be very late, the middle of the night. 2 a.m.? 3?

I got up to go to bed. Even if I only sleep a few hours in my bed, it's better than sleeping on the couch.

I came into the kitchen to get my phone, which had charged, and resolved to not look at the clock on the stove.

I looked anyway.

It was 10:54 p.m.

I laughed at myself. Hey, Beth, you crazy single gal! Remember those days when you'd be going out at 11 p.m.? Those days were a long time ago.

I got ready for bed, turned back the covers, slid in, and ... was wide awake.

Yup. I'm familiar with this rodeo.

I recounted the dream I had before waking up on the couch. It was particularly odd: nighttime, my car in the middle of an almost-empty parking lot, everything slicked by a thin coat of ice, a guy I knew appearing beside me sporting a mane of hair and wearing a tank top, ’70s vintage, a washed-out navy blue with red contrasting trim. We got into my car and I turned on the heat for him – I presumed he was cold – and he proceeded to pop the keyboard panel off of the laptop he was demonstrating to me.

Mmmkay.

I threw in the towel on sleep and headed to the couch again. I had fallen asleep well before Rachel so I figured I'd watch her show.

I was hungry, so I heated up some leftover pasta and had dinner about 1 a.m.

Early coverage of the royal wedding was due to begin at 3 a.m.

I headed to bed slightly before that.

And managed to sleep until 7:13.

There was a time when I could sleep through the night. That talent has eluded me for months now. I wonder if it will ever return.

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