I can’t sleep!
*This is a song title, and not reflective of any sincere belief on my part that things would improve if I were to visit Brooklyn. If anything, the guns and drug lords would make it more difficult for me to sleep.
I have insomnia, and it’s been getting worse lately. Quite frequently I will bolt awake at four in the morning completely convinced that the house-size green elephants who were chasing me with pepper spray and handcuffs really caught me and now I am done for.
And some nights, I can’t get to sleep at all. I discover my blankets on the floor as often as not because I am an eggbeater with an attitude problem once I get horizontal, and this goes into hyperdrive when I am lying awake.
Possible Causes Of This Disorder That Is Making Me Feel Like A Character In A Scary Stephen King Novel:
-I have read too many scary Stephen King novels in my lifetime. Which is to say, two or three. I’m kind of a wuss like that.
-I am stressed out, something that could easily be remedied with a few pretty Italian boys to give me aromatherapy massages around the clock (in shifts, okay, I’m not a total despot—that’s why there are several of them).
-Too much meth abuse. I knew I should have been more wary of that cross-country truck driver and his “candy.”
-Estrogen. This is what I get for being a woman. Thanks a lot for not controlling my gender, Mom.
-Sleeping at odd hours. So falling asleep at work is a bad idea? That’s what you’re telling me?
-The government is testing a top-secret torture weapon on me that wakes people up as soon as they fall asleep for no discernible reason**
Possible Effects Of This Disorder:
-**Paranoia, but I’m sure I don’t have that.
-Hallucinations. Those damn green elephants. I thought that was a dream.
-Impaired functionality during daytime hours. “Oh hi… this is [Lady Snark]. Wait a sec… I didn’t mean to call you.”
-Eventual death. Well, we all have to go somehow.
This is, in a word, not fun.
Okay, so that’s two words.
Give me a break, I’m really sleepy.