Last night was one of those nights when sleep just wouldnít come. Usually I blame myself for not sleeping. I deliberately stay up later than is good for me, because I canít face the prospect of closing my eyes to the world for a few hours. Eventually some kind of psychic friction drags me off to dreamland (although, as you know, I never dream).
This week Iíve been doing a little better. I wonít claim that Iím getting enough sleep, but Iíve been getting more, and better. I sort of happened upon a routine that has been working. At a semi-reasonable hour, I crawl into the recliner and watch a little non-threatening TV until my eyes get heavy. Then I crawl out of the chair and into bed, and sleep takes over.
Then last night it just wouldnít come. I went through the usual routine, but the next step just wasnít happening. Hours and hours went by before I could justify getting under the covers. I did fall asleep, but before the alarm went off this morning (and trust me, there werenít many hours in between), the sound of rain pinging against the bedroom window woke me. The creaking house and pounding rain kept me from sound sleep for the rest of the night.
So today wasnít a good day, energy-wise. Plus, I felt crummy, kind of clammy, as if I hadnít taken a long hot shower first thing this morning. Nothing could wash the icky feeling away, and the pull of sleep never left my eyes all day, either. To make matters worse, all of this kept me from getting as much work done as Iíd planned. That didnít help my mood at all.