Sleep is a fickle bitch.
I’m fed up with her shenanigans.
Wine doesn’t help.
Neither does vodka.
Opiates are useless.
Xanax makes me a zombie the next day.
Ambien makes me a mean bitch.
Melatonin makes me vomit.
Prayer makes no difference.
At least lying down isn’t sitting up.
My cocoon comforts me.
Yet still there is no sleep.
I must admit I’m over it.
Posts Tagged With: sleeplessness
Sleep is a fickle bitch.
Yesterday was adventurous.
I woke with a headache I couldn’t shake and a great deal of nausea. Had the indescribable “joy” of a blow out (tire not hair) on the way to babysit for a family I absolutely adore. (I look after them on Mondays. It’s my new favorite thing.)
Even though I was struggling, it turns out we had a good day. I was actually able to read one book. (Normally we read every bit of ten or more books.) I sat outside in the warm sun while they played. I even drew a chalk picture in the driveway. We did watch more television than we normally do, but that made it easier for me. Sometimes that’s just what’s up.
I came home and ate a bit of dinner, but even that didn’t really help my head so I got in the tubby. YBW was going to bed when I got out. I knew I wouldn’t sleep properly so I went downstairs to “Thing 2’s room” to lie slap in the middle of my old bed.
I had enough fioricet in me to ease the discomfort long enough to fall asleep but I was awake at three. Not ‘wide awake and bushy tailed’, but awake enough that pretty much every indiscriminate thought I ever had showed up for consideration.
A selective sample:
Oh, I love being in the middle of this bed! I didn’t realize how much I miss sleeping in my cocoon.
Wow! Thing 1 will be twenty two tomorrow, the same age I was when she was born.
Wonder if Sundance is awake right now.
Why doesn’t bacon cook itself? Bacon must have been the food of the Gods. They ate bacon and drank diet Dr Pepper up there on Mt Olympus for sure.
I wish Thing 2 was here.
Who put the ‘glad’ in gladiator? (this immediately lead to) Let’s go see N’s family. (my friends in AZ)
Why does it smell like Grandaddy’s house in here?
Man, VBCC used to be fun. Gotta call (my friend and mentor) J back.
Sweet Jesus! What if Donald Trump becomes our president? Wonder how hard it would be to emigrate to Canada? The U.K. would be better but across the ocean is too far away from the kids. Thing 2 wants to move to Canada anyway.
Wish we had some cereal in the house, I’m hungry.
Lunch with Little D and his daddy today.
Perhaps I should go upstairs and get in bed with YBW.
Why did Buffy love Angel so much? Take your tormented soul elsewhere, you whiny, mopey complainer.
This thought process went on for a little while before I finally rolled over and thought: Ugh! Just go back to sleep, you ridiculous girl!
And I did.
This morning I realized it smells like Grandaddy’s house in that room because there are still things in the closet that came from his house but I didn’t realize that in the middle of the night.
I also realized it reminded me of that Alanis song, These R the Thoughts.
Guess we all have them.