Sleep Is A Lost Cause
life
It was around 3:17am and I punched the wall, elbowed the headboard and nearly shoved Mary out of the bed.
The quilt ended up at the other end of the room and my pillows were hanging off the lampshade.
None of it intentional.
Me and sleep are not the best of mates.
I’ve no idea why. I like it. I want more of it. But every time I try and get some, the fun starts.
I twitch and jerk like an electrocuted haddock. I’ve no idea why.
At first, it was just my legs. But then, my whole body joined in. Like I was in a mosh pit. I wouldn’t mind if I was in a mosh pit.
Mary woke me up.
“Can you settle down, please? It’s like sleeping with an over-caffeinated Rhino!”
She rescued the quilt, slid over as far as she could to the other side of the bed and settled down again.
Me? I retrieved my pillows and got back under the quilt. And tried to think happy thoughts…
Now, the obvious answer is: go and speak to someone with the proper medical expertise. And I will. It’s going to happen. I have an appointment.
But in the meantime, I continue to walk around like a sleep-deprived zombie. I see the world upside down and inside out.
The only upside to this sleep-deprived existence? My brain produces the kind of nonsense that makes for decent blog posts. Small mercies.
I do wonder if I ever slept properly, I’d all of a sudden start writing seriously. All proper-like. That’d be a disaster. So, I shall request from the medical expert I end up speaking to that I must stay capable of writing bonkers stuff.
(Mary said my writing is bonkers because that’s me. Sleep has nothing to do with it.)
Last night, I got a new version of “the big twitch”. I twitched so hard I took off. I landed back on the bed with such force that Mary then also took off.
When she landed, she rightly gave me the look. That one ladies reserve especially for men. The one that says: “You will hear about this, later.”
Now, I should finish the post and go to bed. Since it is now late o’clock. Who knows whether me and sleep will get along tonight.
I noticed Mary had a set of cargo straps and a baseball bat with her when she went up to bed.
Nothing like being prepared, I suppose.