20 Jan / Tired
With the hot weather we’ve been having lately, I’ve been having trouble sleeping. It wasn’t helped over the weekend when my darling takes a break from his anti-snore device, but sad to say even when he lock-jaws it in I’m still not losing count of any sheep.
Last night I was lying awake over an hour after I’d gone to bed and started to think that it would be a good idea to take an antihistimine to help me fall asleep.
This isn’t as crazy as it may sound; it’s an old-fashioned type which causes full-on drowsiness, and it also dulls down the itchiness from my skin which is currently attempting to shed itself. One thousand flakes at a time.
Of course, given these effects you may wonder why I don’t just take one regularly. Well, the answer is that they make me feel like crap the following day.
I may enjoy an evening gently drifting into sleep with my skin settled nicely into… into… well, my skin. But then I wake up in the morning, and I don’t really wake up.
Full-on grogginess. Blugh is the official word for it I believe. Bluuugghhh.
My thoughts swim in a slow current that flows woozily around the extremities of my brain. Words coalesce in little groups, always just a fingertip out of reach. Mixed metaphors maraud through the middle of my mind.
I almost-woke up more than fourteen hours ago, and I’m still feeling the full effects. I walked home, over an hours journey, and didn’t manage to make even one of my internal cobwebs more than tremour.
I’ve eaten three days worth of food in one, hoping that it would dispel the sickness and nausea, but no luck.
Well, at least I’ve learned my lesson. The hardest ones to learn are the ones that stick the longest. But still, I know there’ll come a night, maybe next month, maybe next year, and I’ll think – if only I could get to sleep I’ll be fine – and I’ll pop another pill and fall asleep. And wake to this. Again.