Tuesday, September 4, 2012
A Rough Night
I tell my story in the hopes that others out there who share my pain will know they are not alone...
First a little background to help paint the picture.
It begins with seasonal allergies, which are nothing to sneeze at, pardon the pun. One day you are fine and then the next it feels as if someone is driving a spike between your eyes with a hammer. Not to mention the runny nose, watery eyes, and general feeling of crappyness. All you want is to escape to the comfort of your own bed and slip into a coma.
Now let's shift gears towards my husband, who has developed a sleep tic, a glitch that only happens when he is very tired. He draws his knees up while keeping his feet flat on the mattress and holds them there until slowly, slowly, they sway toward me. Just as they are about to make contact he jerks them upright again, jostling the entire bed. He can do this indefinitely until my patience runs out and I sweep a leg behind his calves to collapse them back to the mattress with great force...and great pleasure.
Shifting again, we have my 4yr old. He is currently sleeping, quite happily I might add, in a small bed next to my own for the next few weeks while his room is being renovated. He talks in his sleep. Loudly.
I have recently mentioned to my husband that I am not sure our AC system should sound like a jet engine during takeoff. This does not seem normal to me. He appears to be desperately trying to ignore the situation in the hopes it rights itself and has decided to combat the rising heat in our room by leaving the ceiling fan on high.
All of these issues came to a head in the wee hours of the morning.
Lying in my bed, throat raw and head pounding from sinus pressure, my husband begins a second round of knee swinging. At random intervals an odorous aroma wafts across the room. The aftereffects of Mexican Night, something I like to call Re-fried Regret. It's impossible to tell it's source but I have a good idea. The AC revs it's engine for takeoff and the tornado force winds of our ceiling fan add to the runway effect. My 4yr old starts arguing with whom I can only assume is the cashier at our local Toys-R-Us about a purchase and the sudden urge to abandon ship overwhelms me.
I escape to the safety of my living room sofa and manage a total of three hours of sleep for the night.
My point? People, I'm here to tell you that I have seen Hell, and it's not hot.
It can be located no farther south than the length of my hallway, first door on the left, at 2:AM on any given Sunday.
Sleep Happy, my friends.
Posted by Marsha Sigman at 11:16 AM