The exciting adventures of Insomnia Girl

Now I know why I have insomnia, I think too much. My brain just won’t shut up. Yap yap yap yap yap! It’s like I have a little kid with a sugar overdose stuck in my medulla oblongata.

“But why mommy, why, why, why? Why can’t I go out and play, huh? huh??? Pleeeeeeese?”

“I’m not your MOMMY!, now sit there quietly and be a good brain!

As I lay in bed in the dark, pretending to be in deep slumber, there, in my head, was the equivalent of a political debate. Lots of senseless thinking, worrying and fretting. What will I do tomorrow? Why haven’t I won the lottery yet? How will I wake up so early in the morning? Will I look like a banshee, without enough sleep? When am I gonna get my ass to a gym? Did I turn of the light in the guest bathroom? I think I left the front door unlocked…THIEVES, ROBBERS, MURDERERS! Aaaand I’m up.

As I sit in front of the TV wide awake at 2am after checking the obviously locked door and the turned off stove. My husband, I envy him not, is asleep the minute his head hits the pillow. This drives me crazy further. Why not me?? Where is my sleep fairy? Is she on leave? It’s so distracting having someone so happily asleep next to you when you sit there with a furrowed brow, waiting for salvation.

The irony of it all is that tomorrow morning, around the time I’m supposed to be in the shower or getting dressed for work, my bed is going to be the sexiest thing around. I would trade my mother for an extra hour in bed. Sorry mama. And to top it all off, the monsieur is still sleeping. If you believed in the evil eye, you would see the crimson rays of envy shooting out of my eyes as I groggily stumble to the bathroom.

Scientists say you only need around 8 hours. That’s hogwash. If left unattended, I could easily do 16 in one go. Anyway, it’s getting late and I have to go sit resentfully in bed, until boredom knocks me out. I have about 5 hours. That’s the equivalent of being offered a crummy biscuit, when you’ve been fasting all day and were looking forward to a feast. Good night.

Not so good, I’m back. Yes that didn’t work out very well. I was just about to fall asleep when I heard a click from the AC right above my head, like something just got ejected out of the vent. (I have the hearing of a German Shepherd at night.) All senses alert, I feel a hard, tiny body land on my arm, I have a sneaking suspicion I know what it is so I quickly turn on the lights to confirm.

“Son of a BITCH! MOTHER #%@&%! AAAAAAAAAAAH!”

After lots of loud trucker-style swearing, followed by violent whacking of pillows (dangerously close to my husband’s face) with a tissue box, using unnecessary excessive force, I pick up the deceased BIG ASS ANT and disposed of it in the trash, very far away from my bed.

Pumped full of adrenaline from my fight or flight instincts, I sat upright in bed unable to chill out, staring at my dear spouse, who slept soundly through all the chaos, without so much as a blink. It’s a good thing I fight my own battles, because prince charming didn’t budge.

So here I am. I can’t go back to bed, it’s too dangerous. So I’ll sleep on the couch tonight. That should be fun. I have a TV and the laptop and all those books. It can be like camping but without the damned nature. I settle into my temporary refugee camp, winding down again and ready to sleep and then I make the grave mistake that all insomniacs make. I look at the time. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! It’s 3:30 am…I have 3 hours left, I realize sobbing. And so it starts all over again.

hours later...

Nice sunset...