Insomnia is a terrible waste of my time... if I could only find a way to make it work to my advantage, it's not like I can start to vacuum or do a sink full of dished between the hours of 1 and 5am. I chalked up one lousy hour of sleep last night and spent the whole day feeling like a crumpled up math test. During the hours I wasn't sleeping I: wrote the entry below, found some cheap airfares, read some other blogs, clipped my toenails, read some articles in the New Yorker, played with my uninterested cat and selfishly tried to have a conversation with Alex who responded with, "the way I picture it is like I'm a little bug flying around your head like this" and then proceeded to use his index finger to draw invisible concentric circles above my forehead. Then he smiled with satisfaction and gently snuggled in to a comfy pose. I really have no idea what he was talking about but it was kind of like the time he was drifting in and out of sleep on a hot summer night and said (unprovoked) "I hate oranges. I hate them. And their white, webby skin."
You can't make that kind of shit up. You have to be in that crazy-like state of half sleep; that time when a pillow is the best damn thing you have ever felt and your sheets are so delicious, no matter how dirty they are. I have insomnia a lot, so it's not very often that I get to experience this most excellent state. However, on Tuesday night of last week Alex was asking me questions while I was falling asleep and I answered one question with "You know, those women won't just dry your clothes for free." I remember feeling slightly confused at my own response, but not concerned enough to stop enjoying the fact that my head had now become one with the sweet, sweet down pillow.
So this week when I couldn't sleep I tried to remember my dreamy haze state and force myself back there, then when that didn't work I would fantasize about TiVo and how handy it would be between the hours of 1 and 5am.