I’m hoping tonight is much better.
Tag: sleep
It’s Raining Benadryl!
Last night I had a dilemma. I could take the anti-inflammatory drug prescribed by my doctor to fight the pain in my lower back, or I could take a sinus/allergy pill in order to breathe.
Since the anti-inflammatory cautioned against taking anything with acetaminophen or ibuprofen I was forced to choose. Did I want to lie awake all night due to an excruciatingly painful back or due to a headache from the depths of hell? Decisions, decisions.
Then I remembered that Studly Doright had just bought an economy sized bottle of the antihistamine Benadryl. While it wouldn’t necessarily help with my congestion, it might just knock me out enough that I didn’t care about breathing.
Studly has his own medical stash separate from mine, a tradition started back when he once accidentally took the menstrual cramp reliever Midol and subsequently tried to puke them up lest he develop feminine attributes. Since then our drugs don’t occupy the same space. It’s a rule.
His nearly full bottle of Benadryl was front and center among his medicine collection. It took a couple of seconds to negotiate the child safety cap, but soon I had all those little pink pills at my disposal.
That’s when Studly chose to surreptitiously come up behind me and playfully demand, “What do you think you’re doing?”
I shrieked and lost control of the bottle, sending it on a vertical trajectory aimed for the bathroom skylight. Little pink pills went everywhere. Everywhere. I was still finding them behind perfume atomizers and cosmetic jars this morning.
And since my back wouldn’t let me bend over, poor Studly had to pick up all of the pills that landed on the floor. That’ll teach him to sneak up on me when I’m thieving.
Fortunately I salvaged a couple of pills last night ensuring a deep sleep. Of course I still have the same dilemma tonight, and Studly has declared his medicine cabinet off-limits. I wonder how many glasses of wine equal two Benadryl?
Peace, people.
Blink Once for Yes
I was too excited about my new bed last night to fall asleep easily. That’s a conundrum.
Happy Bed Day to Me!
New mattress, you complete me! 
Peace, people!
I Hear Music
Sometimes in the early morning
after my man has left for work,
but before I have left our bed,
I hear a melody playing behind
my eyelids, soft yet insistent.
Instantly, though, once I open
my eyes, the sweet strains are
dissipated, music diffused all
throughout the greater cosmos,
and in vain I seek the source.
Creeping stealthily from covers
I tiptoe through our quiet home
pausing with held breath hoping
to surprise the makers of music,
but at hide and seek they excel.
The tiny musicians, for they must
be faeries, or related small folk,
lurk just outside of my eyesight’s
range, giggling giddily of that I
am sure; mischief is their nature.
So I return to bed, to the comfort
of my blankets and snuggle down in
a cloud of cool cotton and fleece.
My breaths lengthen, my eyes close,
and the music begins playing again.
I actually do hear phantom music, and have my entire life. Until I mentioned it to someone else I just assumed everyone heard it. While that used to freak me out, now I just accept the music as a quirky blessing. It’d be nice, though, if I could get a number one hit out of it.
Peace, people!
Dream a Little Dream
I had an amazingly fun dream last night. In it I was in a weird airport terminal awaiting my flight to a European destination to stay with my sister-in-law Lyn who was living there.
The flight was delayed and I was just hanging out in the cool restroom–there was a waterfall in there. A young mom with two small kids in tow was crying and when I asked if she needed help she told me she’d misplaced her passport.
Since I had a lot of time before my flight I helped her search everywhere she’d been. We looked and looked and finally found the passport at a kiosk in the airport. It had fallen behind a rack of designer bags. She thanked me profusely and we went our separate ways.
I looked at my watch and realized I was going to have to rush to make my flight. So I commandeered an airport transport and went tearing through the airport. I got to my gate just as the plane was pulling away. I was pretty bummed. The next flight wouldn’t leave until midnight.
But then the the young woman and her two kids approached me. “Come with us,” she said.
The next thing I knew I was in a cushy private jet traveling across the Atlantic. The seat laid all the way back, and I slept like a baby. I guess we made it to Europe. All I know is I woke up in the real world well rested.
Peace, people!
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.
Sleep Patterns
i’ve been accused now
by the abrupt
no kiss good night
the ensuing silence may be
construed as rest
or as fomentation.
too still, no easy patterns
of inhalations, no
gentle exhalations.
the clock measures time in
unslept minutes
awaiting judgement.
when the eruption occurs
i can think only of
future accountability.
i seem to have gotten it,
every bit of it,
wrong yet again.
no easy answers and now
i feel damned
either way.
we really are much too
old to live like this,
i sigh.
the sigh sets him off
anew, fuel to his
unspent fire.
sleep finally intrudes;
we can only say
so much.
Peace, people.
Rosemary’s Bathtub
True story:
At midnight Studly Doright and I were sitting in our oversized whirlpool tub. I was on my cell phone listening earnestly to a man speaking French while Studly looked to me for his next move. Then things really began to heat up. I know what you’re thinking: Ew!
Trust me, it wasn’t kinky, but it was and continues to be, a mystery. Read on.
Studly Doright and I are early to bed, early to rise people. Seldom do we stay up much past 9 p.m., but last night we had dinner with friends at Angelo’s in Panacea and didn’t get home until 10:30. It was a great evening on Ochlocknee Bay, but by the time we’d dropped off our friends we could barely keep our eyes open.
Once in bed we exchanged goodnight kisses, and Studly was snoring gently before I could even say “amen.” I had just drifted into that stage of twilight sleep, a dream on the tip of my brain, when a roar erupted from the bathroom. Not like a lion’s roar, more like the sound of an approaching demonic tornado from the movie Twister, or the sound an airplane’s engines make just before takeoff.
Studly jumped (crawled) from the bed and ran (limped) into the bathroom. I cowered. I cower well. Within a few seconds the roaring ceased and he returned to bed.
“What was that?”
“Just the drying cycle on the tub.”
“How’d you get it to stop?”
“Pushed a button.”
“You’re my hero.”
Again Studly was snoring before I even shut my eyes. Several minutes passed, before Roooooooaaaaaaaarrrr!
I got up with him this time, so I could see which button Studly pushed to keep him from pushing it again.
“Which button did you push?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t read the screen so I just pushed a button.”
At least I could read the instrument panel without my glasses, so I did the right thing and pushed a button that read, EXIT. Immediately, the drying cycle stopped. Problem solved. Back to bed.
Roooooooooaaaaaaaaarrrr!
“Dammit!”
Back to the tub. I suggested that Studly go find the breaker switch for the tub and turn it off. He took his phone to the garage while I sat in the tub with my phone and we talked as he scanned the circuit breakers.
“Did that turn it off?”
“Nope.”
“How about that one?”
“Nope.”
This fascinating conversation went on for a good five minutes, but we never hit pay dirt. When he came back in he stepped into the tub with me armed with the tub’s owner’s manual. I noticed a contact number on the instrument panel and thought, “What the heck? I’m calling.”
So at midnight I called the customer service line at BainUltra. Immediately, someone answered. In French. I don’t speak French. Fortunately I recognized the cadence of a voice mail message directing me to press two for English and to just stay on the line for French. Quickly I pressed two and was directed to a menu, in heavily accented English, only to be told that all customer service reps were busy and that we were to leave a detailed message as to our problem and they would return our call as soon as possible.
We’re still waiting, unless they’ve called Studly on the golf course this morning. That’ll tick him off.
The dryer went through two more loud cycles before it was completely done for the night. We did figure out how to reduce the amount of power it was using and lowered the temperature of the dryer after I realized my bum was getting hot as I perched on the side of the tub.
This morning I’ve read the entire trouble shooting section of the manual. Nowhere does it cover demonic possession or ghostly hauntings, but I have a feeling that’s what our French-Canadian friends are going to tell us when they finally call.
Peace, people!
Ode to Bed
Oh my bed, you dearest place
You cradle me with skill and grace.
How sad I am to leave your charms
When my clock sounds strident alarms.
Please let me be with you all day
For sound asleep I’ll gladly stay.
Safely within your covers wrapped
I have the perfect day all mapped.
Sleep ’til noon, and then I’ll wake
To eat a bite for my health’s sake.
Then back to you for afternoon’s rest
Snuggled deep in blanket’s nest.
Awaken to read a chapter or four
When my eyes droop I’ll sleep some more.
By evening I’ll be fresh as a daisy
Having spent my day being oh so lazy.
Oh bed how sad that we must now part
Just know you’ve a special place in my heart.
Peace, People.
Praying for Eyebrowz 