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Insomnia strikes again.

For the past three nights I have been having a horrendous time falling asleep. And when I do, I can’t remain asleep for more than 30 minutes at a time. I’ve also had really creepy nightmares. Not the kind where a monster is chasing you through a home depot and every aisle is filled ceiling to floor with rolls of pink insulation (I really had that dream once), but the really creepy ones where you dream you are in your bed, in your house, and someone is in there  to murder you. Then, right before waking up, you try to scream and you try to get out of bed but everything is paralyzed. Then you lay there in a panic for a good hour before you realize none of it actually happened. Those are the kind of nightmares I get when I fall asleep on my back. My mom and my sister get them too. Only when sleeping in the supine position (I learned that term on google last night). Which sucks, because that is the most comfortable way for me to sleep.

Anywho. We’ve commiserated with each other on this unfortunate condition for many years. Yesterday, I was telling my friend Pam how I wanted to check the three of us into a sleep lab to investigate the phenomenon. She suggested maybe I check if there was anything on the interwebs about it first. Brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that the multiple times I have found myself frozen in front of the computer thinking I had searched everything there was to know??

Alas. This is not a condition isolated to the Cadmus women. Apparently “Sleep Paralysis” happens to a lot of people and seems to be more common when the individual is sleeping supine, has consumed alcohol recently, is stressed out and is lacking in sleep. Check. Check. Check. Check.

I just think that is cool. I think if I went back to school and did everything over again, I would be a sleep scientist. What happens when we sleep fascinates me.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleep_paralysis

So today, I was determined to battle my restlessness. I did everything right. No drinking. No caffeine after 4. Turned my phone off at 9. Rested on the couch then hit my bed with a book at 10pm. It was working! I was drowsy.

Then, I heard and peripherally saw something, something big, fall out of the light in my ceiling and land on the floor at the foot of my bed. I let out a yelp that set off dogs in my building and my heart rate shot up to 190. So much for sleep. I carefully crawled to the end of my bed, in fear, to see what was there waiting for me and, before I got there… it jumped. High. And landed back down on a T-shirt I had on the floor.

Now, I am standing at on the end of my bed (watching out for the ceiling fan this time) and thinking “holy shit, if I had a man here I would be standing on my dresser shrieking and forcing him to get rid of this visitor.” But, I was by myself. I said, “You can do this. You have to do this. Because that thing is not staying where it is,” (no, seriously, I said it out loud) and I looked around for something to throw over what I can only guess was a cricket two inches in diameter. The light in my ceiling must be powered by uranium, because this fucking cricket was mutant. I grabbed some shorts off my dresser, threw them over the big guy, picked up the shorts, then wandered around in a state of insanity trying to decide where to throw him before he crawled out and jumped at my face.

I thought, I’ll just throw him outside… he can go back to his home. Then I remembered that requires running down two flights of stairs and I saw a mini orange lizard on the wall down there earlier (I know, right? It sounds like I live in Costa Rica). Option two? Flush the sucker. I wasn’t even sure this guy was small enough to get down the hole, but I watched him circle the bowl then eventually take the tube to his new aquaworld.

I was kind of pumped afterward. It was an adrenalin rush. I didn’t need a man! I can get rid of intruders all by myself. Then I got sad… because I realized, just because I don’t need a man, it would still be nice to have someone there to take care of me once in a while. Or… if he was a big pussy, it still would have been nice to have someone there to laugh or videotape my ridiculous behavior during this episode. Simply writing about it does not do the hilarity justice.

Now? I am still waiting for my heart rate to slow. At that point, I will probably still lie awake staring at the light wondering how many other mutant bugs are up there waiting for their turn to land in the drop zone and make their way to my bed. Hey, maybe there is a man in there waiting to drop in… A girl can dream right?

Its approaching the hours that people refer to as “wee.” And I’m restless. At 8:30pm (most of you were probably gushing over the season finale of that irritating show called Glee) I was so freaking tired that I could barely carry myself upstairs to crawl into my nest (chauffeur Ants would have been nice here), and wouldn’t you know it, as soon as my head hit the pillow my mind started racing and sleep became forever out of reach. Even a Xanax didn’t help. All that did was make me start thinking about George Carlin. So I decided to read some of his quotes, which won’t likely put me to sleep, but that shit will forever be funny. During the Googling of George Carlin process I came across http://blogzarro.com/. This guy is pretty freaking hilarious. Not to mention, did a post back in 2007 on 100 of George Carlin’s best quotes.

Some of my personal faves:

  • I wanna live. I don’t wanna die. That’s the whole meaning of life: Not dying! I figured that shit out by myself in the third grade.
  • The very existence of flamethrowers proves that sometime, somewhere, someone said to themselves, “You know, I want to set those people over there on fire, but I’m just not close enough to get the job done.”
  • So I say, “Live and let live.” That’s my motto. “Live and let live.” Anyone who can’t go along with that, take him outside and shoot the motherfucker. It’s a simple philosophy, but it’s always worked in our family.
  • Hooray for most things!

I agreed to be set up again today. I must be a masochist. That, or I am willing to take one for the team (that’s you) in order to bring you yet another recount of what will likely be another dating disaster. I’ve never been able to articulate what it is I am looking for, so how can someone else possibly know? I do, however, have a long and ever-growing list of what I am not looking for. I suppose one day, simple math says I will run out of things to not look for and either arrive at the Cadmus conclusion of a perfect man, or simply realize that one does not exist and go back to low expectations.

Meanwhile, my trainer decided it would be fun to hook me up to a bunch of wires and assess my fat content. Hmmm. I do not like this idea. Not one bit. After she sat me down and delivered the sad news, she gave me a print out of my results… I guess I am supposed to hang them on my fridge or something. Pretty sure I will ceremoniously sets them on fire. I suppose it did accomplish the goal of lighting a fire under my ass…which then accomplished her goal of getting me to spend the money I should be setting aside for taxes on another round of sessions with her. End of month and gotta meet quota? Break out the calipers and start pinching some fat.

So I live in a complex that surrounds a courtyard. We are talking mini-courtyard. As in, I can talk in my ‘sit on the couch next to someone conversation’ voice and have a perfectly audible chat with the person on the balcony across the yard from me. There are four floors, 12 apts on each, so 48 apartments facing said courtyard. Who… in their right mind, that is not a total inconsiderate asshole, hangs a fecking wind chime on their balcony? I get it. Some people like that irritating tinkling metallic sound. Personally, I put it up there with the shriek of an ironing board when you unfold it (have you EVER opened one that didn’t shriek?). Come on people. Hang it in your room with a freaking fan in front of it if you cannot live without. Please don’t subject, no matter how unreasonable and bitter they may be, your otherwise peaceful neighbors to your bullshit “I got this along highway 290 in an art shop outside Fredericksburg” noise making trinket collection.
End Rant.

So, I will go back to bed and try this counting sheep thing again. My friend’s lovely mother, who turned 80 this year I believe, told me today that counting sheep really does work. She said that sometimes she sees goats instead of sheep, which I love because I love goats, but that is a totally different story. Anyway, she said it stops you from thinking about all the other crap running through your mind keeping you awake.

So I envisioned a fence, because I think that is what you are supposed to do. And I placed hundreds of sheep on one side of it, counting them as they jumped the fence one by one. Problem is… next thing I knew there were sheep jumping willy nillie. Sometimes four at a time. Some of them crawling under the fence. Some of them simply going around it. It was like a stampede. I couldn’t keep track of them all. …This scenario makes it sound like I really did smoke crack earlier. But I am not shitting you.

So I put up a wall. With a door. And only let one sheep out at a time. They still overpowered me and came rushing through faster than any human brain could ever calculate. This is supposed to help me sleep?!

Please. Share suggestions that don’t include Tylenol PM or draining another bottle of wine.

Meanwhile I will lay here and listen to the music of the wind chime, periodically masked by the screeching sound of a train going by, the running toilet of the apartment next door or the sound of yet another text message coming in from the millions of people that sent out mass “Merry Xmas” messages today to everyone in their phone logs.

Sweet dreams ATX.

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