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Friday, April 08, 2011

The battle with the Z's

For as long as I can remember, I've been total sheit when it comes to sleeping like a normal person. How the hell do they do it, all those people who are off to dreamland ten minutes after their sleepy, little heads hit the pillow?

The exception to the rule is when I'm reading. I'll have my little reading light so that I won't disturb the mister, who gets along swimmingly with the sandman. It's completely impossible to keep any form of consciousness these days, once I stick my nose in a book. And the little reading light just keeps right on glowing its little brains out. After about a week it's no longer brainy enough for me to see anything. My nightstand drawer is stuffed full of dead reading lights. My side of the bed is where reading lights go to die.

When I was a kid, I though that all inanimate objects would come alive at night. Even something like a plastic screwcork had deep, complicated feelings in my world. My mother always wondered why it was so bloody hard to get me to throw anything away. I just didn't want to plummet things into depression.

If my childhood theory is correct, then I'm sure I'm an urban legend by now. Mother readinglights will tell their children to behave, or they'llend up in my nightstand drawer.

Of course, if my theory was correct, I would totally just puppy-mill the little buggers.

Maybe some day I'll get around to changing their batteries. But knowing me, probably not.



Also not helpful: I tried blogging this from my ipod while still in the comfort of my bed. Stupid ipod app posted on the wrong blog, of course. And then I had to get up and on my computer to fix the mess. Definitly awake now.

6 comments:

haphazardlife said...

When I was a kid I'd worry about things being cold outside at night (don't even get me started on winter!)

So I'd talk to the grass and the trees and the lawn chairs (!!), the freaking house (!!!!) and I'd tell them not to be scared, I was throwing an "imaginary" blanket over them. Imaginary to everyone except us of course.

I'm somewhat surprised I survived to adulthood.

- Jazz

choochoo said...

Hehehe. I'm sure you could squease a blog post outta that, ya know. Just sayin'

kenny-boy said...

when I was a kid I was convinced that my grandmother's collection of porcelain dolls came alive at night. For several years I couldn't sleep at all when I visited her.

Anonymous said...

It lives again! It's backsies! It's backsies, right?

choochoo said...

Kenny-boy: dolls are creepy even when they're not coming alive.

Anon: backsies!

secret agent woman said...

I'ma chronic insomniac, but I tend to ust turn on the bedside lamp, or if I have company, go in another room.