Sometimes it takes me forever to fall asleep. It’s often quite irksome. Sometimes I’m not even trying to actually fall asleep; I’m just trying to get comfortable so I can read. But if I’m not comfortable, if my mind isn’t at ease, I can’t read. And that’s also quite irksome. Take a look at what I go through…
- I get in bed. My sheets are twisted. Hubby doesn’t use the sheet, so I’m on my own straightening it. I need to make sure it’s right-side-up before I can even begin to relax. Same with the blanket I use. Yes, Hubby-pants and I use separate blankets to accommodate our different sleeping styles. We’re utter weirdos that way.
- With the bedclothes straightened over me, I lie down on my left side, make sure the pillow is between my shoulder and my face (that’s very important), and read. If I’m beginning a new book, I have to read the first few sentences several times because they just don’t “take.” My mind just won’t “accept” them. It’s odd. By the time my brain finally decides to play along and put the words together to form sentences that make sense and tell the beginning of a story, I have to pee.
- I return from the bathroom and repeat my ten minute wrestling and rustling with the sheet and blanket. If Hubby-pants is in bed also, he calls over his shoulder something sarcastic like, “Do you need help?” or “Are you okay?” He doesn’t mean it. He hates my sheet. He laughs in the face of my nightly sheet-struggles.
- I read a few chapters and my eyes begin to heavily protest reading further. Fine. I turn off my Kindle, set it on the nightstand, and turn over…twisting the mother-flitting sheet. Dammit. I readjust them. Now I’m awake. I reach back and grab my Kindle. Read a page or two. My mind gets tired again. I turn the Kindle off, leave it where it is, and close my eyes.
- That’s when it happens: The perfect scene/line of dialogue/short story idea/novel premise/subplot/etc. I roll over in a tsunami of sheets and scramble for my phone. I enter a quick note into my notepad app. It makes next to no sense because of autocorrect. And because if I don’t type it quickly my mind will make it disappear. I go back over my notes and correct/fill in the details. I sigh a sigh of satisfaction. Then straighten the #%*&ing sheet again.
- I’m really tired now. I don’t want to read. I don’t want to jot anymore notes (unless something really brilliant hits and I just absolutely have to). So I just lie there. And my mind wanders as I shove my pillow between my shoulder and my face. Why are pillows rectangular? Is it just so two of them neatly fill the width of a bed? Because they could just as easily be any other shape. Who picks the shape of anything? Remote controls should be circles. Too many things are rectangles. When I’m rich, I’m gonna have a bunch of circular things. Circles are so organic. Not like organic food, but organic spiritually. Organic food is so expensive! Organic strawberries are totally worth it though…
I honestly can’t tell you when that mess actually stops and sleep actually begins, but that’s the story of my own special insomnia. Care to tell me yours?