Sometimes, I am REALLY bad at sleeping. I toss and turn for hours, my chest growing tighter and tighter with pent-up frustration. I get anxious, worrying how the next day will go on so little sleep. I count hours, weigh the pros and cons of turning off the alarm, and squirm and “huff and puff,” as Chad likes to call it. Last night, after my brain finally shut up, I was sleeping really well. Until I woke up feeling that maybe my alarm had gone off and I’d turned it off in my sleep. And that I needed to fight the desire to return to sleep. So I did. And then I looked at the clock. 1:57. Really? It was pretty hot in the room, too. April is so confusing. One night is SO cold we need our extra “personal sleeping blankets,” and two nights later, we are throwing off duvets and pants and what have you. Anyways. My huffing and puffing woke up my dear, long-suffering husband, who eventually just gave up and went downstairs to the couch. And I lay there, switching sides, sipping once-cold, now lukewarm water, praying to just fall asleep, dang it! It didn’t work until after 4something.
It’s never as big a deal in the morning as I think it will be. Yes, I’m tired. I missed Jazzercise, and I feel half-baked. But it’s not the catastrophe I imagine at 3 in the morning when I’m so worried about my not-sleeping.
This is a lot of boring, probably too-much-information for you. Sorry. This is where I am this morning.
Wanna see more pages? I got LOTs more. But I’m going to space them out, so I have more blog fodder that I don’t have to originate. Lazy.
