Sleep App Update

A couple of months ago I posted a piece about the sleep app, “Calm,” and I figured it was time for an update. Here’s a link to the original post, if anyone’s interested: https://nananoyz5forme.com/2019/03/10/sweet-sleep-in-an-app/

Knowing myself as I do, I really worried that after the novelty of the Calm app wore off that my anxiety would kick in and counter the positive results I’d experienced. Turns out, I don’t know myself all that well. Huh. Who’d have thunk it?

Don’t get me wrong. I have had a couple of sleepless nights since downloading the app, but that’s TWO nights out of more than 60, and that my friends is a win. If you didn’t read my earlier link, and honestly, you really should so you’ll be up to speed, the Calm app has meditation exercises and relaxing music, but best of all, there are sleep stories to send the listener off to a restful sleep.

I have several favorite sleep stories that are almost guaranteed to take me to lala land.

1) “The Butterfly Sanctuary,” read by Clarke Peters. His voice makes me melt. Like buttah.

2) “Wonder,” read by Mr. Alright, Alright, Alright himself, Mathew McConaughey. Talk about sending a girl off to sleep with a smile on her face!

3) “Aberystwyth by Train,” read by Stephen Lyons. Imagine falling asleep to the lulling rhythm of a train traveling along the northern coast of Wales. Oh my!

There are many other stories. Some are short fictional tales, others are excerpts from non-fiction, like astronaut Terry Virts’s “View from Above.”

There have been a couple that I’ve not found relaxing. Ironically enough, “Calm Airways” is one of them. It’s a poem, and a rather eye rollingly corny one at that. And this is going to sound sexist, but I still find the male voices more conducive to my own relaxation. I’m sure that wouldn’t be true for every listener.

Some of the stories are intended for children, but the only one I’ve listened to is “The Little Mermaid.” My six-year-old granddaughter and I downloaded the familiar tale to listen to when we shared a bed during her recent visit to Doright Manor. Once the story ended she was still wide awake and not at all happy that it wasn’t a bit like the Disney version.

Nothing’s perfect, right? But this app has really been a godsend. I heartily recommend it for anyone who struggles with insomnia.

Peace, and calm, people.

No Sleep = No Blog Post

Okay, despite the title of this post I feel compelled to write something.

On Thursday morning Studly Doright and I had the following text exchange:

All he needs is milk and pot pies. All I need is eight hours of sleep. I don’t even like milk or pot pies, but if consuming either meant I could sleep I’d buy large quantities of both.

Having slept very little on Wednesday night, I figured I’d sleep soundly on Thursday night. Wouldn’t that have made sense? I must have dozed off for a few minutes after we went to bed last night. A bit of drool on my pillow was proof of that, as well as the reason I woke up. There’s nothing like the feel of cold, wet slobber on one’s cheek to bring all the senses alive. Ick.

I couldn’t go back to sleep after trying for an hour, so I took my book and went to the sofa in the den thinking that reading for awhile would soon make my eyelids droop, and I’d fall asleep mid-sentence, awakening renewed and refreshed. Nope. Never happened. I finished the entire book and was so wired afterwards one would’ve thought I’d consumed multiple cups of espresso during the night. It’s a good thing I’m retired. This could be a long day.

Here’s a clip from the Mary Tyler Moore Show. I could’ve used Mr. Grant’s help last night.

https://youtu.be/jslAOzi_7sE

Peace, (yawn!) People.

But I Don’t WANT To Write

I write something for this blog and post daily. I’ve done so for several years now, but last night the toddler in me was balking. Toddler Nana didn’t WANT to write anything, and nobody could make her.

When I crawled into bed I said to myself, “Self, you don’t have to write anything tomorrow if you don’t feel like it.”

I congratulated myself profusely. Then my brain spent the next hour and 20 minutes churning out one forgettable blog post idea after another.

“Okay!” I snarled at myself. “I’ll write SOMETHING, but I won’t enjoy it.”

Good news: I purchased some new eye liner and will most likely be able to find humor in the application process for a future post. Grasping for straws, folks. Ooh! There’s a title.

Peace, people.

I Don’t Sleep

I don’t sleep when you’re away, my thoughts chase, circling ceaselessly without remorse.

Each hour weighs a ton, each minute pounds against my skull, what if? What’s that? Check

The clock. If I fall asleep right NOW, I could manage five hours before the alarm sounds, now

Four, then three. Who does math at four a.m.? Could I reset the alarm? Thirty minutes 

More? But I’ve already eaten up that time with my calculations. Please hurry home. I don’t sleep.

Women are from Earth; Men are from Uranus

Studly Doright fell into a deep sleep as soon as the lights went off in Doright Manor last night. In contrast I watched the minutes, then hours, tick by on my Fitbit, practiced coordinating my deep breathing skills with the rise and fall of his snores, and not only counted sheep, but also organized them according to height, weight, and quality of fleece. It was a long night.

Twice during the night I felt the call of nature. Being a considerate woman even in a state of severe sleep deprivation, I carefully slid out from under the covers, making the most minute movements imaginable. With the stealth of a cat I moved through our bedroom and down the hall to access one of the guest bathrooms in order to allow dearest Studly to slumber in peace, undisturbed by the sound of a flushing toilet or running water.

Returning to bed after both trips to the loo I gently eased myself onto the mattress and matched my movements to his snores, pulling the blankets up to my chin in increments of a half millimeter per second. Studly never stirred.

At some point I slept. I know this because I was awakened rudely by Studly who abruptly sat up with a loud grumble-snort-sigh combo, followed by an inelegant roll out of bed, and topped off with a vicious tug of the covers. Granted he couldn’t have known that I struggled with sleeping last night, but geez Louise, he could’ve shown a little respect for the near dead.

I fumed as he showered and readied himself for the day ahead. As Studly noisily fumbled about for his keys and wallet I leaned across his side of the bed to kiss him goodbye. 

Sweetly I asked, “Honey, did I steal the covers last night?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, sounding genuinely puzzled. 

“Then why did you jerk them like a magician pulling the old tablecloth trick?”

“I dunno. Maybe I was looking for a rabbit?”

His humor just barely saved him this time. Grrrrr.

Peace, people.

Hormonally Challenged

Some nights it doesn’t pay
to try and fall asleep.
I toss, turn, fume, and burn
and sometimes even weep.

My brain is heavy in its cage
too tired to engage in thought,
still round and round it plods
until every nerve is shot.

Physically I’m just a mess
of hot and sweaty limbs;
sticky breasts, and chafing thighs
turn nighttime hours grim.

Just once I’d like to fall asleep
free of worry, care, and pain,
yet I fear that won’t take place
until I’ve died or gone insane.

  

Peace, people!

Hank Williams and Insomnia

Normally I’d be asleep by now. Study is snoring, but it’s my sore throat, not his sonorous rumblings keeping me awake tonight. Rather than toss and turn I got up to make myself a cup of hot tea with lemon, but somehow the tea ended up being a shot of whiskey in a hot toddy. I’m sipping it now, and it’s working a miracle on my poor, raw throat.

I have a song lyric stuck in my head (again). This time it’s an oldie–“Your Cheating Heart” by Hank Williams. Not the whole song, mind you, just the part about not being able to sleep. Very fitting tonight.

“Your Cheatin’ Heart”

Your cheatin’ heart
Will make you weep
You’ll cry and cry
And try to sleep
But sleep won’t come
The whole night through
Your cheatin’ heart will tell on you…

When tears come down
Like falling rain
You’ll toss around
And call my name
You’ll walk the floor
The way I do
Your cheatin’ heart will tell on you…

Your cheatin’ heart
Will pine some day
And crave the love
You threw away
The time will come
When you’ll be blue
Your cheatin’ heart will tell on you…

When tears come down
Like falling rain
You’ll toss around
And call my name
You’ll walk the floor
The way I do
Your cheatin’ heart will tell on you…

Don’t worry, no one around here is cheating; I’m too crazy about Studly Doright, and he IS Studly Doright, after all.

I’m about finished with my hot toddy and will try sleeping again. But I’ll leave you with a little Hank.

Update: Now, a friend scolded me about using a Hank Jr. video, and I must admit to my error. However, in my defense, I did tell you all I was leaving you with a “little” Hank.

As always, Peace, People!

Waking Up Is Hard To Do

I got two hours of sleep last night. Maybe two and a quarter. My husband, Studly Doright, who by the way doesn’t have sleep apnea (we had him tested) snored all night long. And when I say he snored I mean he:

Snorted
Roared
Snuffled
Gurgled
Rattled
Plorked
And mmmphhed
Loudly

All night long.

There was never any pattern to the cacophony. He usually maintains some sort of almost hypnotic, metronomic rhythm that allows me to slip into sleep. But not last night. Just as a tango was established he’d switch to a rumba, then to a cha cha. There might have been a salsa thrown in, too. I would have loved a minuet, but that never happened.

I moved to another bedroom around 3:40 a.m. The cats found that amusing and wanted to play. I must have fallen asleep at some point, only to have Studly wake me up to kiss me goodbye when he left for work at 6. How very considerate of him. Thank you sir, may I have another?

Normally I’d have had the luxury of snuggling under my covers after Studly left for work, but I’d promised to meet an acquaintance at a fitness center for an early morning aerobics class. I went, and held on through most of the class, but I might have fallen asleep during the cool down. There was a trickle of drool on my yoga mat. I just hope I didn’t snore.

Peace, People