Can't Sleep.... Clowns Will Eat Me
For the past few days I've been dealing with a doozy of a cold. I don't usually get colds this bad; usually garden variety sniffles. This one has featured fever and chills and moved into my lungs. The cough syrup is a new one and I wasn't expecting this wakefulness. Nor was I expecting to be so hungry. Here's to hoping a bowl of oatmeal will take the edge of, make me feel warm and cuddly, and help me get some rest.
After a few bites, I decide that,while I prefer my steel-cut oats that take 20 minutes to cook, this stuff Kiddo likes is passable. That's a plus.
A lot of things go through our heads when we are laying there with nothing to distract us. I'm not the only person in our family to deal with this problem; Kiddo, too, gets the 'lie awake and think about stupid worrisome stuff' gene from me. Joe, on the other hand, can sleep through pretty much anything. I cannot recall any time in my life with him that he was staying awake, worried. Well, maybe once, when I was at the ER and sent the guys home because A. I knew it was kidney stones and B. who wants an audience when they feel like crap? Otherwise, the guy has an ability to sleep which rivals Sam-I-Am's ability to eat green eggs and ham. In short, in a box, on a train, in the rain (okay, in a tent in the rain), at a play (it really happened!)... the man has amazing sleep abilities. I am in awe of them.
Apparently, the oatmeal has a limited window when it comes to keeping a desirable consistency.
Sometimes I lay awake and try to console myself with what I think is the funniest idea in that moment. Usually it is a phrase of odd reassurance. My new favorite: "Don't worry, it's not like you'll never fall asleep ever."
It is a small consolation, but the effect it has is a good one. This is not an insurmountable obstacle. It's one night in a chain of many nights, many opportunities. It's just.... I want to sleep.
If you tell me that I shouldn't have my computer on, well, you are right. That said, I finished my book a few hours ago and wanted to write. Oh, and I guess I wanted to get freaked out a little bit because a centipede just scampered across the kitchen floor and in the time it took to get a killing device (paper towel!) it had disappeared. And now I've got the creepy crawlies. Sheesh. If you came to the conclusion that I now am No Longer Relaxed but am now on Alert Mode, you win the prize.
Can't sleep. Centipede on the loose.
I'd actually prefer the clown. The clown is a joke, a line from The Simpsons. (Homer gives Bart a bed with a clown headboard. A really creepy, psycho-looking clown.) We have it on a bumper sticker on our car. Just one of those funny things both Joe and I, and now Kiddo, really dig. If I could fall asleep to The Simpsons, or better yet, Perry Mason, without waking anyone up, I'd do so in a heartbeat. Perry Mason is great for that. I've seen all of the episodes so many times and since they are on disc, there are no blaring commercials to deal with. I've nodded off to Perry many a time.
Perhaps I'll start earlier tomorrow night. Put some Perry on at 9 and hopefully doze off. Fictitious, 1960s pretend murder is better than both hypothetical clowns or real-- very real--centipedes. In any case, Kiddo's got a workshop tomorrow morning that I have to get him to. I'll take him to lunch right after, and then home. For a nap. Because centipedes and creepy clowns don't keep daylight hours, right? At least, I hope not.