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Saturday, December 04, 2004
Sleep, glorious sleep So, why didn't someone tell me about this "sleep" thing sooner? Dang, does it make me feel better. I should do it more often. Yes, after being strung-out dead-dog-tired yesterday, I decided it was finally time to actually go to bed early, instead of saying I would and then staying up till 2 a.m. anyway. So as soon as I'd had sufficient dinner, I began the pre-bedtime tooth maintenance—both to ensure that I wouldn't let myself get sidetracked by eating or drinking anything else, and as a Pavlovian "this is what I do before sleeping, so it must be time to sleep" cue. I got distracted by Spider Solitaire for a while, but dragged myself away after a few fruitless rounds of a four-suit game. Took my meds at about 9—one of them has a soporific side effect, so about half an hour after I take it I'm just about knocked out. I sat on the living room couch next to the birdcage long enough to do a crossword puzzle and let the bird get her fill of jumping all over me and sitting on my head and chirping at my ring; at 9:20 I was almost keeling over, and at 9:23 I was upstairs, in bed, lights out literally, and after some tossing and turning, it was lights out figuratively too. I drifted semi-awake at about 5:30, looked at the clock, went back to sleep; J. gave me a shake and turned on our full-spectrum sun lamp at 7:15; by 7:45 I was upright and downstairs, and feeling astonishingly, luxuriously well-rested. It's almost a pleasure to be awake; my brain's working, I feel like I've at least got the potential for having energy, and I swear my clothes even feel better. (J.'s comment: "Imagine if you felt that way every morning? Just a thought." Yeah, but...but then I wouldn't appreciate it as much, would I? Right? Right? [Someone back me up here!]) No, really, I do need to try it more often; not tonight, maybe—12:23 as I type this—but except for last night, I don't think I've gotten to bed before 1:30 a.m. any day in the last six weeks, so hell, I'm still on track to make an early evening of it. (Night. Morning. Whatever.) Rules: "Tonight Show," okay; "Late Night," monologue, maybe first guest; "Last Call," sorry, Carson, gotta skip you. (I was skewing the "18-to-24-year-old male living at home with no girlfriend playing video games all night" Nielsen-demographic market share anyway.) 12:31, "Tonight Show" musical guest—the mouse-feeding, tooth-brushing cue. In bed before 1 a.m.? I'll give it a shot. Anything's possible, right? I can do it, really I can. 12:38; "Late Night" monologue starting. Okay. Post entry. Log off. Do not even think about Spider Solitaire. Or FreeCell. Or TriPeaks. I mean it. One, two, three...now. [ at 1:48 AM • by Abby • permalink • ] |
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