I have developed some kind of NyQuil-dependcy-induced/unemployment-linked insomnia where I just lie in bed late at night and stare at the ceiling while I begin several amusing (To me only. Probably.) blog posts that I never actually write. One of them was a bitter diatribe aimed at one Mr. W. Wonka and his misuse of the term "everlasting" as it applies to his "gobstoppers" and linking this to many of the ways movies LIE TO US. Another one was a meandering treatise on the merits of yoga pants over traditional pajama bottoms (I know, shocking).
And this Sunday, while sick, I tossed and turned from midnight until 4:30 AM (and then again from 6:00 AM until 8:00 AM) and the more tired I got, the faster my thoughts moved. Not as in: faster thoughts = more efficient and effective thinking. More like: faster thoughts = more frenetic explanations of topics I ALREADY UNDERSTAND but have seemingly forgotten that NO ONE ELSE IS LISTENING since none of this is OUT LOUD. Or you know, coherent.
I'm not kidding. I got halfway through a stern lecture on the difference between "health insurance" and "state-paid health care" (In case you're wondering, the lecture went something like this: "Health insurance" is a tool to mitigate risk and "state-paid health care" is a benefit to citizens regardless of risk. So, no matter where you land in that particular debate, we should probably at least be using the terms correctly, ET CETERA!), before I realized that NO ONE CARES because I am the only one inside my head and I DON'T CARE I JUST WANT TO SLEEP OH MY WORD SHUT UP!
Anyway, at one point during this fugue episode, I began transcribing my thoughts as if I was going to tweet them. Which? Basically just means you think every thought twice, but the second time, you do it in 140 characters or less. It was FANTASTIC, let me tell you! Erm....
Several days for the last few weeks (the ones before I got sick), I helped Sister-In-Law paint her house. She couldn't pay em in money (no would I want her to), so she paid me in calories. TWO BAGEL TUESDAY, BABY! And I thought, after six to eight hours of manual labor (climbing ladders, lifting buckets, moving furniture, and actually painting), I would be exhausted and go right to sleep. HA! I lay in bed, unwilling to move any muscle and completely worn out. FOR HOURS AND HOURS.
This must END, people.
Okay, you know what? I wrote all of the above paragraphs yesterday evening, hoping if I blogged WHENEVER I had the inspiration, I would actually get some blogging done. I got interrupted and was going to finish it in the morning. Do you know what time "morning" came today?! DO YOU? It was NOON. Which is not morning AT ALL!
Do you know why I woke up at NOON?! Because I did. Not. Fall. Asleep. Until. Five. Fifteen. AM.
FIVE-FIFTEEN! And the only reason I fell asleep then was because I finally took a Benadryl. Was I having an allergic reaction to something? NO I WAS NOT! Unless there is such a thing as ALLERGIC TO SLEEPING. And then yes, I think I might have been.
I repeat: THIS MUST END, PEOPLE.
Any tips? Tricks? Suggestions? Sledge hammers you are willing to lend?
[This post originally shared the same title as a controversial "children's" book (which was actually intended for sleep deprived parents) begging children to please, for the love of God, BE UNCONSCIOUS. But since I don't swear on this blog, even with the vowel asterisked out, you get the lame actual title above. This is one of the rare occasions on which I wish I swore.]