Monday, November 9, 2009


To understand the horror of yesterday, you must first understand how I spent Saturday night.

How did I spend Saturday night?

Well, if you insist...I spent Saturday night lying awake in bed and starting at the ceiling. Then I took Tylenol PM, and I spent the rest of the night lying awake and staring at the ceiling, except then my toes tingled like they tell you about in all those commercials they put out trying to convince us that restless leg syndrome (RLS) is a "real medical condition" instead of what I call a "minor annoyance."

When I finally fell asleep, my alarm went off because I had forgotten to switch it from 6:00 a.m., a problem that led to annoyance, rage, and then my turning my cell phone to "Silent" and then switching it off in case "Silent" wasn't "Silent" enough.

To understand the consequences of that decision, you must also understand that, if left to my own devices, I will sleep eternally, like some kind of modern-day Sleeping Beauty, without all the sexism (she'll only wake up when she meets the perfect man, who completes her, breaks the spell, etc. just because she can't live out a normal life on her own--without being guarded like an infant? Oh--not to mention the whole arranged marriage thing. Seriously. Good movie, though--I love the music).

Sorry, Jen. I really do like the Disney movie, just not the fairy tale message reinforcing the whole gender-role thing.

I was awake half the night, or more. When I finally woke up, it was 2:30 p.m.

That's late.

That's the whole day, pretty much. Not good.

So I made the most of what was left, but I got almost nothing done, compared to what I could have accomplished had sleep been restricted to the time that sleep should be. Like night.

I tried to catch up on writing that I missed out on doing over the week, but I only ended up getting the writing that I should have done that day finished. So I am still behind (ugh) instead of ahead as I was with my word could last NaNo.

Mom had a migraine, so I spent the majority of my waking hours almost totally alone, unless you count Paul, who was shut in his room blowing the heads off of aliens. Or shut in his room creating the Democracy of Carol, in Fallout 3 (I think). I don't count that as company, because seeing Paul also meant hearing the cries of the dying, even if only the virtual dying.

I ended up watching Angel. This is because I love Buffy and Joss Whedon, even though the whole Angel experience had not been my cup of tea in the past. What changed? They were on big-time sale at Walmart and I noticed that the final season of Angel had Spike in it, since Buffy had ended by that point.

I like Spike. I like him because he smokes so much while driving in his car with the blacked out windows that the air fills with so much smoke it's a wonder he can even see to drive through the tiny space left clear of paint. I like him because his girlfriend dumped him, and he coped by drinking heavily, passing out, and catching on fire as the sun rose. Then extinguishing himself in a fountain. I like him because his solution to an enemy ramming a sword through the roof of an RV was not to dodge out of the way, but to grab the sword, because...why not? And because he deals with his long days shut up in a borrowed crypt by watching soap operas--Passions (certainly the worst soap of all time) to be specific. In short, he is everything I would hate in the real world, but because I don't have to spend my time smelling the stale cigarrette smoke, I find him hilarious.

Spike died in the last episode of Buffy, but in the first episode of season five of Angel, he appears, reassembles from the ashes (like burning up backwards), and does all this while screaming his horrible scream, which I also find funny. Of course, he is non-corporeal, which means he can walk through walls and torture others--certainly what Spike does best.

This was hilarious.

When he finally becomes solid once more, inexplicably, he is unaware, so he runs headlong into a door, breaking his own nose. He, in a later episode, is brutalized by a puppet.

And watching a grown man wailed upon by a muppet-like creature is funny on all kinds of levels.

But my season of Angel was all too short, so I went to Walmart that evening, I got the rest of them (for super cheap) before I bought myself something to eat (no food in the house), some milk (so I could start my day off right), and gas for the car so I didn't have to start my day off early for no good reason.

But when I went to sleep last night, I felt the consequences. I lay awake until 3-ish (I didn't bother to check) until finally sleep descended upon me, and five minutes later (give or take, I'm sure it was a few hours) my alarm went off and forced me up, out of bed, and on my way to work.

I made coffee, for my consumption, for the first time in my life. I ate breakfast, then took Excedrin (not for the pain, but for the caffiene), a sad consequence of exhaustion.

I arrived at work wanting more coffee and grieving a lack of local coffee shops worth my patronage, then I amused nine preschool children by reading stories and affecting enthusiasm when I really wanted them all to go home so I could stare into space some more.

Why is it that I have one bad night and it ruins my weekend, one bad weekend and it ruins my week? Why is it that I, a huge lightweight when it comes to most medication, would need enough tranquilizers to take down a wild boar in order to effectively sedate myself, instead of, say, a Tylenol PM? Why is this my fate?

Is my life not boring enough for me? Do I have too much happening, like all that driving between Wabash and home, or the drama of dealing with the high school student that defecated in the urinal for his own amusement? Or my crazy lady, who comes in and tells me the same story sometimes three or four times a day, and when she's not telling me, she tells herself? Is that too much for me to handle?

I just want one thing. I want to curl up in bed, close my eyes, and fall into blissful sleep. I want to then sleep through the night, undisturbed by Dad's I've-Just-Been-Stabbed-in-the-Back yawns. I don't ask for diamonds, for fancy cars, luxury yarns, or even regular meals. All I want is decent sleep.

If you have some, please send it my way.


  1. Sorry Laura, I have no sleep to send your way, but you can always count on me for a good dose of drama;)

    I would also like to thank you for hooking me on tylenol PM, I blame you. I didn't take any last night because I had no need to, no aches or growing pains (I still have those, let's hope it's just in my head). Anyway, I didn't fall asleep till after midnight. I stopped looking at my clock, it just made me more upset that I wasn't able to sleep.

    My theory is that we just need to drain ourselves throughout the day so that we're so completely exhausted we aren't capable of keeping our eyes open. I also think we should follow this with soup from K-mocha tonight before the band concert. Just a thought...

  2. do you want some of my ambien?


  3. I think I would do best with some kind of tranquilizer gun aparatus, so that my brother can stalk me through the house and shoot me with it, felling me like a wild bear.