… I’m looking forward to getting to bed tonight. You know that cold I’ve been dodging?
It got me.
Category Archives: Sleep
#SoCS – I want it, but would I give my right arm for it?
Wouldn’t it be nice if we had more hours in a day? Or if we could just not have to spend so much time sleeping? I normally only get about 5 hours, but that’s five hours I could spend doing all the things I have to do. I actually slept in until 10:45 this morning because Alex (my youngest) is at his dad’s this weekend. I came downstairs to find the dog with his legs crossed (not really – he can hold it a long time) and thought to myself I wish I’d gotten up earlier. But we need sleep once in a while, right? Ugh.
I’m often tempted to use the phrase “I’d give my right arm…” but really, would I? Imagine what that would do to my gait when I’m walking… I’d be going in circles all the time. Typing would be a hassle, as would giving people hugs. One-armed hugs are so impersonal, though I suspect anyone getting a hug from a one-armed person would not likely take it personally. (Seriously, if anyone out there is missing their right arm or knows someone who is, I mean absolutely no disrespect. Just musing on the realities…)
Actually, I have lived without the use of my right arm for the most part when I had a frozen shoulder. Remember that? My gratitude for my right arm has increased tenfold since then. Although I did retain some of the dexterity I gained from having to be left-handed. And oh! the sleep deprivation when my shoulder was frozen! I’ve never known such pain!
So I guess I’ve answered my own question. Would I give my right arm for sleep? Apparently not.
Thanks, stream of consciousness writing.
If you, too, would like to see what lengths you’d go to (or not) in order to get what you want, click the following link and join in! It’s free! https://lindaghill.com/2017/07/28/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-july-2917/
#SoCS-haustion
Ooooh, am I ever sore. This is going to be short and sweet more than likely (though who knows – I’m typing with my eyes closed and just coasting along on what’s left of my steam).
I walked with my best friend, John, and two of my kids to see the local fireworks display tonight. It was pretty spectacular, and the mood, being Canada’s 150th birthday, pretty warm and happy. I’m glad I’m Canadian. I’m proud of my country. But as much as I loved being included in the festivities, I’m happy to be home right now and almost ready for bed.
Just one last push up the stairs and then aaaaah… zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
This tired old post is brought to you by Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Click the link and check out all the other posts!https://lindaghill.com/2017/06/28/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-july-117/
And thanks so much to Dan Antion for helping me out this weekend! You did a fabulous job!
Wanted: Sleeping Companion
As many of you may remember, I fell while delivering papers last December during an ice storm (I’m stupidly dedicated to my job) and received a concussion when I hit my head on a concrete step. (That was a fun post: you should read it.) When I went down that fateful day, I also landed with a concrete step across my shoulders. Since then, I have suffered with shoulder pain.
You might be wondering by now what the title of this post is all about.
I have a hard time sleeping because of my right shoulder. If I lay on it, it hurts. Same thing when I lay on my back – and that’s not a comfortable position for me anyway. If I lay on my left side, I have to try to keep my right shoulder straight. If I leave my arm resting on my body, it falls off. If I prop my side up with my hand on the mattress, my wrist hurts, and if I put my arms together with my elbows touching, my shoulder still isn’t straight enough.
I finally figured out the solution this morning. A sleeping companion!
No, not a man. Get yer minds out of the gutter.
What I need is, a teddy bear. One big enough that if I keep it close to my chest it will keep my shoulders straight. Seems the perfect solution! So today I’m going to go through the boxes from my failed garage sale of a few weeks back and dig out an old stuffed animal. I have an appointment with the doctor on Monday. Hopefully a more permanent fix is somewhere in my future. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Power Over a Dream
I have a recurring dream of being stuck in an elevator. Over the years, I’ve connected it to being stuck in a rut, being undecided about something, or being worried about which direction my life is going. You see, the elevator doesn’t just stop – it takes over. It has a life of its own, going up, down and sideways. Sometimes it is much smaller than the shaft and it swings on its cables. Sometimes it stops between floors and the doors open – revealing to me the scariest thing of all: the dark, dirty elevator shaft.
I had the dream again last night, but this time it was a little different. The elevator continued to have control, but I overcame the dream.
I was in a three storey building and I got into the elevator with two men. I wanted to go from the third to the second floor, but for some reason I couldn’t push the button, so the elevator went to the first floor. The men got out, and I pushed the second floor button, but I ended up again on the third. I allowed the door to close, vowing that if I missed the second floor again, I’d get out on the first and take the stairs. Of course, when the doors closed, the elevator took control. We went up to the roof and started going sideways. I had a window in the elevator then (why? It was a dream) and I could see the tops of the other rooves from where I was.
Instead of panicking, however, as I usually do in this dream, I pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of my bag and I sat down and started writing. I figured if the elevator wasn’t going to do what I wanted it to, I’d make the best of it with the time I had on my hands.
Pretty cool, eh? If only I could remember what I wrote. It might just have been brilliant.
JusJoJan 23 – Dream
Okay, so I had this dream just before I woke up this morning. It was dark outside (in my dream) and I was looking out my front door (which didn’t look at all like the scenery outside my real front door). Leaning up against a post about six feet beyond the door, was a dead, flattened squirrel. Two black cats came along and started fighting over it. They dragged it away. They were trying to eat it.
Then, on the front lawn, I saw two moose (mooses? meese?) chasing a dog. The dog stopped and looked at me only to be caught by a horse – the horse grabbed the dog (it was a collie with a collar) by the scruff of the neck. Somehow the dog got away but the horse and the moose (mooses? meese?) were chasing it so they could eat it.
Then I woke up.
Analysis anyone?
P.S. I had fish for dinner last night – not dog, and not roadkill.
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You know you’re tired when…
… you wake up to the alarm at 5:30am and forget what it means and what you’re supposed to do about it.
… the phone rings on your bedside table and you answer your remote control and can’t figure out why it won’t stop ringing. (I watched my ex do this.)
… you don’t realize until you go to put the tea cozy on the milk that you put the teapot full of steaming hot steeping tea in the fridge.
The last I did years ago, the first was just this morning. What notable things have you done or seen when exhaustion sabotaged your poor, defenseless brain cells?
Forty-something and still growing up
What is it about my life that at what should be my bed time I start acting like a teenager? I know damned well that I’m tired, and yet I refuse to do the sensible thing and go to bed.
I think that maybe it’s the quiet which lures me into wakefulness. When it’s quiet I can concentrate on writing. At night I don’t have to worry about the phone ringing to tell me someone has been misbehaving at school and can I please come and pick him up. During the day I’m so worried that my creativity will be interrupted that I would rather procrastinate by playing Bejewelled than run the risk of starting and having to stop. Then there’s the fact that at night I can act like an adult: having a child who refuses to play silently by himself (and by that I mean if I don’t play with him he screams at me until I do – long story) is hardly conducive to sitting down to a peaceful cup of java and a pleasant read. Oh, and wine of course. THAT I can enjoy a glass of after the kiddies are safely tucked away in bed.
After all, isn’t being a teenager all about wanting to grow up? Yeah, I’ll bitch about how tired I am in the morning…
Maybe I’m not really grown up after all.
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