The Sleep In

I got up this morning the second time Sherman poked his snoggy pink snout into my shoulder. He’ll go away once: it’s like snooze for mutts, but when he comes back and nudges me another time with his nose I know he’s feeling quite serious about wanting to go out.

It's cold and it snuffles.

I put the speckled one outside, fed him breakfast, and checked my email. After Sherman ate, pooped, and sat patiently on the back step waiting to come in, I put him in his kennel and thought I might go back to bed for a few minutes. It was 9:30 a.m. The next thing I knew, I had that sweaty, groggy, tongue-stuck-to-the-roof-of-my-mouth feeling that indicated what I’d experienced on my pillows was far more than a cat nap.

It was 1 in the afternoon.

I have been sleeping very poorly lately. It takes me even longer than normal to doze off at night, and I frequently wake up at least once in the middle of the night. Since childhood I’ve struggled to shut my brain down at night and fall asleep, but once I actually meet up with the Sandman, I snore until morning. This wide awake at four a.m. business is bananas. We all know the feeling of staring at the ceiling at that time –although I’m so near-sighted I’m just staring into the fuzz– worrying about work the next day and becoming more and more worried about all the sleep we’re not getting.

Some of it seems to be coming from the sad fact that I’m having issues with my carpal tunnel on the right side again, despite just having it repaired in June, and some of it seems to be related to my left hand: the stupid thing refuses to heal fully. Quite possibly, I’m also chasing too many details of work and life around in my brain as well. The end result is a woman who can hardly roll her sorry carcass out of bed in the morning. Not pretty. Never in my life have I been a morning person (those folks are sickos) but I am not used to feeling like I’m made of wet cement for the first three hours of my day.

Anyhoo, I slept until one today. It was a beautiful thing. I feel like a new woman. There was a brief period, about seven minutes, where I felt a smidgen guilty about not making it to the swimming pool and about sleeping through the hours I was planning to devote to my school work. I got over it.

I think we all need a night with a full twelve hours of glorious sleep now and again. The human body has so many interconnected parts and complex systems, and I really do think a person who feels truly zonked is just getting signals from her body to just spend most of a day in bed. I might schedule a decent sleep-in for every weekend.

Let’s just hope I can doze off tonight. There may be some Gravol in my future.

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3 Comments Add yours

  1. Never feel guilty about a good sleep-in! You deserve it!

    1. That’s what I keep telling myself. I live in deep fear of accidentally doing it on a weekday, though.

      1. That happened to me once. A fellow teacher called and woke me up. Nightmare!

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