So, my sleep has been fucked up since I returned from Taiwan. I know, you’re saying, “How can you tell the difference?”, but I can. I was slowly inching towards a semi-regular sleep schedule before I left, and now, it’s crashing down around me again. I am taking more naps than anything else, to the delight of my cats. I don’t allow them into the bedroom with me because I am allergic, and it’s hard enough for me to sleep as it is. So, they love it when I take naps on the couch in the living room because then they can snooze with me.
However, I would like to tell one kitty, who shall remain nameless (cough, Shadow, cough), that his new habit of leaping off the arm of the couch onto the pillow on my face is NOT a soothing way to be woken up. Then, when said kitty (Shadow) pauses to groom himself while bearing his full weight on the pillow smushed squarely into my nose, that just adds insult to injury. And, no, it’s NOT funny to have the same kitty saunter down my neck, my boobs, my stomach, my lap, and my thighs before settling on my legs. Apparently, I am now a ramp and a walkway for Shadow.
Anyway, I had a four hour nap from midnight to four in the morning last night. Then I puttered around for a bit before deciding to do my exercise at around seven in the morning .
May I just say, I love my DVR. I love it with a passion that is slightly unseemly and more than a bit creepy. It’s the greatest invention since the dildo, and I mean that sincerely. I can record two programs at the same time. I record one program and watch another at the same time. I can start recording something and then start watching it ten minutes later as it’s still recording. I can watch a football game and then just rewind it (even if i’m not recording it) to review dubious calls. I can record up to eleven-billionty hours (not really. It just seems like it). I can record for more than six hours in one shot if I wish. In short, I love my DVR. I love it so much, I don’t watch any shows live any more, except sports.
I have five shows I record. Two of them are daily. I recorded all my shows while I was in Taiwan, so I have a backlog. I like to watch TV as I exercise, so it seemed like the perfect time to whittle away my saved recordings.
Or not.
So. I am blogging at ungodly hour on a Saturday morning, an extra-large mug of Mud Pie coffee at hand. It’s the third day of captivity, and I am getting restless. Oh, sorry. I slipped into survivor mode there for a minute. What I meant to type is that the sleep experiment, day three, isn’t working. Oh, I know, it takes three weeks for a habit to form (thanks for the reminder, Iratwo), but this is bullshit, really. I got up at eight-thirty, and I am ready to go back to bed. I am MORE fucking tired now than I am after four or five hours of sleep. WTF? That isn’t the way it’s supposed to work.
Well, not totally random. Actually, not really random at all. I have been backsliding on my sleep, and it’s really affecting me. It’s my old way of not having to deal with the world. I mean, who the hell can function on such a crazy sleep schedule? Not me, that’s for sure.
It is funny, to me, anyway, that I am blogging about sleep rather than actually trying to sleep. As I have documented in the past, I have a very rocky history with Lord Morpheus. In fact, I have written a novel about it, including many of my more outre dreams in the three-hundred page epic. Once I am satisfied with the ending, I am going to approach Vertigo to see if I can publish my novel somehow, maybe as a graphic novel. Yes, I used Morpheus (Dream) and his six brothers and sisters as main characters in my novel. Not a good idea in retrospect, perhaps, but it was needed at the time. If you have no idea what the hell I was just saying, go to Google and look up Neil Gaiman and Sandman. Then, you shall know everything.
I hate sleep. But, Minna, I can hear you protest–ok, no, I can’t, but let’s pretend–why would you hate something that is so good for you? It’s relaxing and rejuvenating and other re words I don’t care to list. Refreshing! That’s often said about sleep as well. Malarkey, I say. If I could get away with it, I wouldn’t sleep at all. Why? Well, I’ll tell you.