10:00pm: I'm weary, so I settle into my recliner; however, knowing that it's too early for me to fall asleep, I decided to tire myself by reading about 40 pages of The Real Eve before completing a Sudoku puzzle, which solved itself rather easily.
11:00pm: The Sudoku is done, and I wonder whether to try another, but I decide to turn out the lights and chill. I lie quietly and do my best to still my mind. I determine to stay relaxed even if it takes awhile to fall asleep, for I have heard that real rest is almost as beneficial as sleep. Mind you, I don't think I've ever heard an expert say this.
12:00am: I haven't really slept yet, but I think I might have dozed briefly. This thought encourages me, and I move myself to our shared bed. I stay relaxed but don't fall asleep although it is possible that I may nod off once or twice. It doesn't help that a Wiggles song has become a nagging earworm.
1:00am: Perhaps I will fall asleep in the guest bed where I have more room to stretch, so I move my body over there. My legs are very sore despite the fact that I have gone back on Celebrex lately, but I did have a vigorous session on the treadmill, and I may have overdone it. The Wiggles song (mercifully, I forget which now now) continues to play in my head, and I try to drown it out by internally singing Baby Beluga.
1:45am: It's not working, and although I try to remain calm I roll over to look at the clock.
2:20am: Hooray! I have been sleeping for 20 - 30 minutes, but now I am hotter than blazes. This occurs most nights; I don't usually sweat but my internal heat is ferocious. It is internal because our house is kept quite cool at night. Sometimes, I can find the right combination of clothing, blankets and restful position to overcome this heat problem: but not tonight.
3:00am: My body is still blasting heat, whether real or mental, I don't know. Despite the fact that I have purposed to lie peacefully for as long as it takes, I finally relent and get up to change the dynamics. Hopefully, puttering on the puter will cool me down and change my mindset.
3:30am: Sometimes, when nothing else works, I can find rest on the couch in the living room; I don't know why this works, but it often does. Tonight, however, this, my fourth resting spot of the night, doesn't work for me. I remain hot and uncomfortable, and my mind begins to compose this blog ... when it isn't humming a new earworm, Baby Beluga.
4:00am: A glimmer of hope: I know that I just thought of something good to include in this post but am unable to bring to mind what it was. This (being unable to reconstruct what I have just thought of) is always a good sign as is the fact that the clock has turned four. I often find that I undergo some sort of change around 4 o'clock, give or take a half hour or so. Maybe the magic hour will work tonight too.
4:10am: Back in the guest bed, I check the time and also notice that my internal furnace has shut itself off. Despite the fact my legs are still yelling at me, I know that I am ready to sleep.
6:50am: Less than three hours later, I wake up and change beds yet again to go snuggle with Cuppa while I try to get another few minutes sleep. I don't get those few minutes, perhaps because I am still listening to Baby Beluga sounding in my head. I wish I could actually sleep with the woman that I love, but I seldom manage to do that for very long any more. Would it help to have a king size bed, I wonder. But our expensive queen size bed is very comfy, still fairly new, and it would be an costly experiment to purchase a king size bed, probably to discover that it wouldn't help anyway.
10:00am: I finish this blog and note that I am am doing reasonably well despite the sleep deprivation. I decide to schedule this post to publish tomorrow morning (now this morning) since I have already posted once today. I continue to play Baby Beluga in my head, but not so much as previously. I determine to take a sleeping pill tonight although there's no guarantee that it will solve my problem; sometimes it helps a lot, and I suppose that it always helps at least a little.
And that's how a night with AC may very likely transpire although I must admit that it usually isn't quite that bad.
Showing posts with label sleepless. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sleepless. Show all posts
Thursday, March 04, 2010
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Here I Go Again
And so it begins ...
We're back home from a long weekend away at the cottage. We consumed our turkey, saw lots of autumn colour, and enjoyed our first snowfall. Actually, we didn't enjoy the actual fall because we were asleep at the time, but it was there greeting us in the morning. Now, I'm okay with snow; it has its place — but not on October 13th. No, not then.
We took life pretty easy over the weekend: watched season three of Dexter, all twelve episodes, and two movies: Benjamin Button and Revolutionary Road. My often faulty memory informs me that they were both hot movies last year, but my reviews are so-so. I'll go along with Rev Road, which was really well acted and well done IMO: my totally ill-informed and worthless opinion. It's outlook was rather bleak, or is that black, but it held me. However, B Button was weird for me. Perhaps, I had heard too many good things and expected too much, but I really found it draggy. And the premise was ridiculous.
Oh, I don't really mean the main premise of being born old and becoming younger until death takes Benjamin — mercifully ends — cue credits and turn the video player off. What I mean is that you can't have Bennie Boy being a little baby twice. If his life is to be the reverse of normal, he can't both begin it and end it as a baby, the first time old and the second time young. Somehow, he either has to enter the world large, or end it as a big baby. We're only babies once, blast it all, so they have to pick at which end it will be. Duh.
Dexter was great though. even season three kept me on edge. I keep cheering for that sweet, little serial killer and body dismemberer. I'm like that.
But I'm not really writing at almost one o'clock in the morning to either kill time (so to speak) or to review movies.
No, I'm here to moan, groan and generally complain like the pathetic person that I am. So help me Rhonda, I just want to sleep. Since I didn't get much last night and drove for hours today, it doesn't seem too much to ask, but alas ... the sweet and tender arms of Morpheus elude me. I have even been listening to that incredibly boring book, The Hour I First Believed. Sorry Wally, but it does go on, especially the aural version because one can't revert to speedily scanning the more tiresome parts — of which there are many. Whatever! As plodding as it gets, it doesn't put me to sleep. Not tonight anyway. Sigh.
Except for last night, however, I did sleep well enough at the cottage. I get no credit for that though because I took sleeping pills. They're not all that strong, but they help. But at home, I refuse to rely on them on a consistent basis ...
... so here I am ... whining and whinging to you ... in the wee hours.
Maybe I'll write a post about being thankful sometime. It seems like the proper thing to do after Thanksgiving weekend here in The Great White North. I do have a lot to be thankful for. I know that; I really do. I'm just not feeling it tonight though.
So, I'll just sit here and continue my Pity Party.
But I do have one question: why am I more cramped in our queen size bed at home than the double at the cottage? It's crazy, but I am. And it's not just down to sleeping pills either.
It's nuts I tell ya.
We're back home from a long weekend away at the cottage. We consumed our turkey, saw lots of autumn colour, and enjoyed our first snowfall. Actually, we didn't enjoy the actual fall because we were asleep at the time, but it was there greeting us in the morning. Now, I'm okay with snow; it has its place — but not on October 13th. No, not then.
We took life pretty easy over the weekend: watched season three of Dexter, all twelve episodes, and two movies: Benjamin Button and Revolutionary Road. My often faulty memory informs me that they were both hot movies last year, but my reviews are so-so. I'll go along with Rev Road, which was really well acted and well done IMO: my totally ill-informed and worthless opinion. It's outlook was rather bleak, or is that black, but it held me. However, B Button was weird for me. Perhaps, I had heard too many good things and expected too much, but I really found it draggy. And the premise was ridiculous.
Oh, I don't really mean the main premise of being born old and becoming younger until death takes Benjamin — mercifully ends — cue credits and turn the video player off. What I mean is that you can't have Bennie Boy being a little baby twice. If his life is to be the reverse of normal, he can't both begin it and end it as a baby, the first time old and the second time young. Somehow, he either has to enter the world large, or end it as a big baby. We're only babies once, blast it all, so they have to pick at which end it will be. Duh.
Dexter was great though. even season three kept me on edge. I keep cheering for that sweet, little serial killer and body dismemberer. I'm like that.
But I'm not really writing at almost one o'clock in the morning to either kill time (so to speak) or to review movies.
No, I'm here to moan, groan and generally complain like the pathetic person that I am. So help me Rhonda, I just want to sleep. Since I didn't get much last night and drove for hours today, it doesn't seem too much to ask, but alas ... the sweet and tender arms of Morpheus elude me. I have even been listening to that incredibly boring book, The Hour I First Believed. Sorry Wally, but it does go on, especially the aural version because one can't revert to speedily scanning the more tiresome parts — of which there are many. Whatever! As plodding as it gets, it doesn't put me to sleep. Not tonight anyway. Sigh.
Except for last night, however, I did sleep well enough at the cottage. I get no credit for that though because I took sleeping pills. They're not all that strong, but they help. But at home, I refuse to rely on them on a consistent basis ...
... so here I am ... whining and whinging to you ... in the wee hours.
Maybe I'll write a post about being thankful sometime. It seems like the proper thing to do after Thanksgiving weekend here in The Great White North. I do have a lot to be thankful for. I know that; I really do. I'm just not feeling it tonight though.
So, I'll just sit here and continue my Pity Party.
But I do have one question: why am I more cramped in our queen size bed at home than the double at the cottage? It's crazy, but I am. And it's not just down to sleeping pills either.
It's nuts I tell ya.
Saturday, August 02, 2008
At Last
Gloriosky! With the aid of a little pill, I slept for ten hours last night. It was a fairly good ten hours too, with fewer jaunts than normal to the loo. While I rejoice over the sleep, I am somewhat disappointed that I seem to require the assistance of a pill in order to enjoy some well earned, deep slumber.
I had slept very poorly, more poorly than usual, on the previous two nights. On the first, my mind was in racing state, and I would wake up with tunes careening through my head to the point where I was almost ready to bang my head against the nearest wall. On the next night, my body went into its let's make a fire routine. It happens a lot, but on that night the heat wouldn't quit, and I couldn't find comfort. I had clothes on and off, sheets on and off, and fans on and off — in three different rooms! — but couldn't find the right combination to alleviate my predicament. As a result whatever sleep I did manage to capture was quite fitful. It drives me crazy sometimes. I drive me crazy sometimes.
So, this little grampa was really tired yesterday — really, really tired — and although said little grampa dearly loves The Bonnie Wee One, days with her can be long and tedious. We are usually on the job for ten to twelve hours with much vigilance required and little time available for adult distraction such as reading a book or doing something creative. Although we may be seeming not to work hard at any given moment, it's a demanding and tiring job nonetheless. On top of that, we're not in our own place over there, and although Dee's house may be like a second home, it will always lack the genuine comfort factor of my real home, so it's harder to relax.
I say that by way of explanation rather than complaint, for I adore the kid. But long days after long nights do take their toll. Although I seldom sleep really well, when I have two extraordinarily poor nights in a row, followed by two normal, demanding days in a row, I pay the price. And so, I reach for a little pill.
Although I try not to resort to them frequently, these pills really help — on most nights anyway. I sleep longer and more soundly, but not usually as long or as sound as last night's whopping ten hours. I don't think I've slept that long for five years or more. It was nice, but I sure wish I could manage to have a really good snooze every and again sans artificial assistance.
I had slept very poorly, more poorly than usual, on the previous two nights. On the first, my mind was in racing state, and I would wake up with tunes careening through my head to the point where I was almost ready to bang my head against the nearest wall. On the next night, my body went into its let's make a fire routine. It happens a lot, but on that night the heat wouldn't quit, and I couldn't find comfort. I had clothes on and off, sheets on and off, and fans on and off — in three different rooms! — but couldn't find the right combination to alleviate my predicament. As a result whatever sleep I did manage to capture was quite fitful. It drives me crazy sometimes. I drive me crazy sometimes.
So, this little grampa was really tired yesterday — really, really tired — and although said little grampa dearly loves The Bonnie Wee One, days with her can be long and tedious. We are usually on the job for ten to twelve hours with much vigilance required and little time available for adult distraction such as reading a book or doing something creative. Although we may be seeming not to work hard at any given moment, it's a demanding and tiring job nonetheless. On top of that, we're not in our own place over there, and although Dee's house may be like a second home, it will always lack the genuine comfort factor of my real home, so it's harder to relax.
I say that by way of explanation rather than complaint, for I adore the kid. But long days after long nights do take their toll. Although I seldom sleep really well, when I have two extraordinarily poor nights in a row, followed by two normal, demanding days in a row, I pay the price. And so, I reach for a little pill.
Although I try not to resort to them frequently, these pills really help — on most nights anyway. I sleep longer and more soundly, but not usually as long or as sound as last night's whopping ten hours. I don't think I've slept that long for five years or more. It was nice, but I sure wish I could manage to have a really good snooze every and again sans artificial assistance.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Hairballs and Sleep Deprivation
In the blog before this, I just mentioned waking up rather early this morning. I also mentioned that lately I have been experiencing restless hours from about 3:00 to 5:00 AM. This is a new wrinkle in my sleep, or should I say sleep-less odyssey. My traditional pattern, at times when I have been going through sleep problems, is to find it difficult to drop off to sleep. Once there, I have usually been fine. Not lately though.
This morning there was a new and added wrinkle just before 5:00. I was already sleeping lightly, so I quickly picked up the sound of our cat, Rocky, in pre-barf mode. One hears an ominous sort of choking and retching, and one just knows that a gooey and icky hairball is about to hit the carpet. In our somnolent states, we have never made it to the beast in time to prevent this carpet-splat. No, we always a little late for the event ... but just in time to clean up the subsequent mess. There have been a few upchucks in the past few weeks. He goes through spells. He'll have a quiet few weeks, and then he'll have a week or two of more frequent hairball-elimination.
This morning, however, I was awake enough to jump into action quickly. When I first came to, I discovered that he was still on our bed, so the initial action was to kick him off — firmly but not too violently. Secondly: I grabbed a nearby plastic bag and placed on the carpet below his wretched and retching little head. The good cat stayed right there over the bag and continued to retch. But never vomited! Can you believe it? The one time that I manage to act in time to save the carpet, his need passes and the heaves are just that — dry.
And then I was up for the duration. Oh, I tried to get back to sleep, but further blessed repose was to elude me. After an hour of lying there and becoming increasingly wakeful, I arose, ate some cereal and put on the coffee, Normally, I can get back to sleep, even after cleaning cat puke but not this time. Perhaps it was the book that I was reading last night: Ken Follett's Pillars of the Earth. As I was reading, I could feel myself getting absorbed and wired, so I played a calming game of Sudoku and then read a bit of This is Your Brain on Music. I was on a very dry section of the book last night, and it sufficiently de-stimulated me to get to sleep. But after the cat episode, my mind went back to twelfth century England, Kingsbridge, Prior Philip, Jack Jackson and the rest. I guess that means that it's a good book, but I would have preferred not to relive it at 5:00 o'clock in the morning!
This morning there was a new and added wrinkle just before 5:00. I was already sleeping lightly, so I quickly picked up the sound of our cat, Rocky, in pre-barf mode. One hears an ominous sort of choking and retching, and one just knows that a gooey and icky hairball is about to hit the carpet. In our somnolent states, we have never made it to the beast in time to prevent this carpet-splat. No, we always a little late for the event ... but just in time to clean up the subsequent mess. There have been a few upchucks in the past few weeks. He goes through spells. He'll have a quiet few weeks, and then he'll have a week or two of more frequent hairball-elimination.
This morning, however, I was awake enough to jump into action quickly. When I first came to, I discovered that he was still on our bed, so the initial action was to kick him off — firmly but not too violently. Secondly: I grabbed a nearby plastic bag and placed on the carpet below his wretched and retching little head. The good cat stayed right there over the bag and continued to retch. But never vomited! Can you believe it? The one time that I manage to act in time to save the carpet, his need passes and the heaves are just that — dry.
And then I was up for the duration. Oh, I tried to get back to sleep, but further blessed repose was to elude me. After an hour of lying there and becoming increasingly wakeful, I arose, ate some cereal and put on the coffee, Normally, I can get back to sleep, even after cleaning cat puke but not this time. Perhaps it was the book that I was reading last night: Ken Follett's Pillars of the Earth. As I was reading, I could feel myself getting absorbed and wired, so I played a calming game of Sudoku and then read a bit of This is Your Brain on Music. I was on a very dry section of the book last night, and it sufficiently de-stimulated me to get to sleep. But after the cat episode, my mind went back to twelfth century England, Kingsbridge, Prior Philip, Jack Jackson and the rest. I guess that means that it's a good book, but I would have preferred not to relive it at 5:00 o'clock in the morning!
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