Dormir

There are two places I sleep best: vacation and work. The latter I don’t really do too often (some would say this is because I don’t work too often), but my coworker is very good at it. I’ve seen him sleeping, but don’t necessarily hear him sleeping; rather, I hear him jolt awake because his airways are obstructed.

Last night after watching Bridesmaids – I want to be ready for 1) Wilson Phillips and 2) any upcoming weddings – I decided to go to bed. It seemed like a good idea at the time, however, as soon as I laid down I was wide awake. Being that I had to be up and out before eight AM, I knew I was in trouble. So, I did what everybody does when they can’t sleep – I got up.

While up, I ate a mint chocolate ice cream sandwich, ordered a rug, practiced my francais – oui, oui, je l’ai fait, and washed some dishes. With my belly full, my shopping done, my Alzheimer’s prevented (learn a second language – it’s not just for foreigners any more) and my kitchen clean, I tried sleeping again. Tried being the key word.

Many might suggest I change my diet (no way I’m giving up that delicious ice cream sandwich), exercise (I walked to my bedroom and lifted the decorative pillows off the duvet), avoid alcohol at night (I can’t sleep and drink at work), or see a doctor (I’m lucky to be dating anyone right now, let alone a doctor). Looks like I’ve only got one alternative: vacation.

Alas, I laid my head on my pillow, started planning my next trip and the next thing I knew, it was seven AM and I had successfully powernapped. Where I went on my vicarious vacation, I have no idea, but when I woke my pelvis was hurting – maybe I should see a doctor.