Can’t sleep. Been trying since 11:30. Here’s what happened:
- Put myself to bed at 11:30 with a new book–“San Miguel” by T. C. Boyle. It’s OK, but the first 50 pages are mostly howling winds, the incessant bleating of 4000 sheep, a woman with a consumptive cough, and a pretty heavy sense of foreboding. I put it down and turned off the light at 12:15, giggling to myself that it was really early thanks to the time change and I didn’t have to set an alarm because it’s spring break.
- Woke up at 12:30. Bright moon shining in the window, too hot in my room. So I did a load of laundry, changed the sheets, sorted a few more piles of stuff. Still wasn’t feeling tired but didn’t want to go back to the sheep bleating. A different book–that’s it! I downloaded the third in Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series–“Voyager.” Just the ticket. Read from 1:20-1:45. Turned off the light and tried to think about the wilds of Scotland. Nope. Tried to make a list from A-Z of places I’d like to visit. Nope.
- Back up at 2:00. Switch the laundry. Step out on the deck to enjoy the cool air and Jinx the cat mewls her way up the steps. I open the door for her before I realize why she sounds funny. Yep, she had a mouse in her mouth. Now there’s a mouse in the house. I shut the cats, the dog and the mouse in the den and wish them all well.
- I consider taking a Benadryl to get drowsy, but G had mentioned at dinner that taking Benadryl on a regular basis as a sleep aid causes cognitive impairment. Yep, this is what we talk about at dinner. You would think I would be BORED enough to sleep. I only take one about once a week but I convince myself that this is a “habit.”
- 2:15, to hell with it. I get a Benadryl but drop it under the bed. Dig it out and swallow it anyway–first sign of cognitive impairment would be that I eat anything that has touched this floor.
- 2:20…speaking of floor, I go back to the kitchen and clean up that mess that Carlos made when he painted the floor with a couple of blackberries. I begin to think that I might be one of those women who could really get it ALL DONE if I quit sleeping. Martha Stewart only sleeps 3-4 hours a night and it seems to be working pretty well for her. Except for that prison stint, but she used that time to knit.
- 2:30. The dog is lying in the middle of the floor with his nose pointed under the love seat, so I assume that’s where the mouse is hiding out. I open the door to the deck and consider getting the broom to chase the mouse outside, but G is zonked out on the couch where he fell asleep three hours earlier watching Law & Order. The sound of me opening the door rouses him enough that he opens his eyes and looks right at me. I shrug and say, “Can’t sleep.” He grunts, “G’night” and rolls over. It’s good to feel understood.
- I like when the numbers on the clock line up, so I’m going to call 2:34 lucky. Got the ceiling fan on, the window cracked, the blinds shut, the cats on mouse duty, lavender lotion on my feet, a Breathe Right strip on my nose, Benadryl working its way into my brain pan. Surely this will work..right?
- Oh, for pity’s sake…now I’m hungry.