Zzzzzzz

I’m sitting here trying to think of a subject to write about – but I’m so sleepy I could pretty much nod off at will. I’ve yawned so much my eyes are watering and I’m wondering how I’m going to make it through the day without a nap.  In retrospect, staying up late the past few nights was probably not such a great idea.

Neither, apparently, was my recent decision to stop drinking Diet Coke.

I’ve spent the last couple lunch breaks reading a library book. Except that I’m not really reading. I’m doing that head bobbing thing where my eyelids get heavier and heavier making it harder and harder to keep my eyes open.

And then, just before I fall into a deep sleep, my subconscious yells, “YOU CAN’T FALL ASLEEP NOW; YOU HAVE TO BE BACK AT WORK IN TEN MINUTES!”  And then my head jerks up and my eyes pop open and I realize that (a) I’m giving myself whiplash, and (b) I have absolutely no clue what the book I’m reading is about.

Sigh.

I’d impose an 8:30 bedtime on myself, but that probably wouldn't work because I'd be wide awake sometime during the middle of the night. Or I could take a nap when I get home, but it seems like there is always some chore that needs to be done. By the time I finally settle down to relax, Vince arrives home and we want to spend some quality time together.

And by the time we finally decide to call it a night and start our teeth brushing, face washing and head-to-toe moisturizing routine, it’s after midnight. 

What’s that you say?  Since it takes so long to moisturize our old, dry, cracked, lizard-like skin, we should probably start that process immediately upon arriving home for the evening?

Hey, that’s not very nice.  “Lizard-like”?  Really?

Actually, I think the problem is that we’ve developed some bad sleeping patterns lately. Like waking up multiple times throughout the night.  I’d blame Vince – but he reads this blog and he can easily point out the many times I wake him up throughout the night with my restlessness.

Don’t ask me when that happened. I used to sleep like a rock and wouldn’t stir until the alarm went off in the morning. And even then I didn’t always wake up. Hey, give a girl only one good ear to hear out of and she can very conveniently ignore things like alarm clocks.

Lately, though, our rambunctious felines have added to our sleeplessness.  They seem to have forgotten every household rule they’ve ever been taught.  Like, for instance, Jinx has decided that the lower right quadrant of the bed is the perfect place to snooze.  This is precisely where my feet go.  And if I move my feet, she pounces on them. So then I move them more. And she pounces more. While she may think it’s marvelous fun, it’s a game that I don’t enjoy all that much because it keeps me from sleeping.

I’ve also noticed that the cats believe their morning feeding time has changed to five o’clock.  In. The. Morning.  Are they nuts?!  To convince me it would simply be easier to get up and feed them, they take turns launching themselves onto the bed and bumping their heads into my face.  This, as you might imagine, startles me awake.  And then I get annoyed.  Plus, then I have cat fur in my mouth and I have to worry about things like fur balls. Ick.

But the cats don’t recognize “annoyance” and they truly believe that I’m going to drag myself out of bed and stumble into the kitchen to dump food in their bowls. 

I’d do it to get them out of my face, but I can’t give in to them. Otherwise, they’d be waking me up every three hours throughout the night like a couple of newborns.   

And we all know that’s not happening.

We could shut the four-legged creatures out of the room completely by closing the bedroom door. Except that inevitably one of the two-legged creatures in the household has to take a middle-of-the-night potty break. And I can see it now. We’ll forget that the door is closed and we’ll smack into it face first. Since  it's hard to accessorize the black eye-and-swollen-nose look, closing the door is not an option.

Hey, I’ve got it!  Perhaps we could feed the felines kitty tranquilizers. If they sleep through the night, maybe we will, too. 

Or maybe not. Because, as Vince will be happy to tell you, my feet are not moving only because Jinx is pouncing on them.  Hunh. Forget the kitty tranquilizers. Maybe we need some Jane tranquilizers?  

Yeah, that idea has merit.  It might not solve all our problems, but maybe we could get a decent night’s sleep. 

It’s either that – or I’m going to bypass the Diet Coke and head straight for the Red Bull.  Whiplash ain’t all that much fun.

Besides, my library book is due back at the library in a few days. It’d be nice to get the chance to actually read it.

Better go.  It’s time for a...cat nap.  (Ooh. Sorry.) 

It’s All the Fault of Netflix (That’s My Story, Anyway…)

Vince and I have started watching the series, Friday Night Lights on Netflix and, unfortunately, have been staying up later and later as we chew through Season 1. 

“Just one more episode,” we say. And then we end up going to bed so late, there is no way we’re getting the recommended eight hours’ sleep.  Heck, we’re not even getting six!

So it’s silly – especially considering that the series has been over for a couple of years.  I mean, it’s not like we have to catch up on previous seasons in order to be ready for the new season to start. 

Ah well. I suppose it’s better than watching regular TV.  Why?  Because for one thing, there are no commercials on Netflix. And for another, whenever we watch an episode of a current series we’re following and that episode ends, we look at each other like, That’s it?  There’s no more?  Whatta ripoff!

Clearly, we are not fans of the cliffhanger.

But we started this trend a few years ago when we rented DVDs of an entire season and watched all the episodes in a row. No, silly, not all in the same night – we did spread them out over a week or so.  But we didn’t have to rely on our (sometimes) faulty memory as to who was doing what to whom and why.  And then we’d rent the next season.

Now we have that marvelous invention, the DVR. And we have Netflix. And if we’re not careful, we’re going to turn into those dreaded things called couch potatoes. This is especially troubling because we really don’t follow very many episodic television series. We don’t watch American Idol. We don’t care which star dances better and wins a disco ball trophy at the end. And we’re woefully ignorant about what the big scandal is on Scandal.

Fortunately, last night we had a diversion. Family came over and we had a nice, chaotic evening together of food, frivolity and fun. Throw in a little hair styling and getting the chance to meet the newest member of the family and, well, you have a recipe for a great evening.

And tonight? Well, tonight, I’m on the fence. I could either join some friends for a music trivia night at one of the local watering holes in town.

Or I could go home and take a nap. 

Right now Plan B is winning because I haven’t had enough caffeine to open my eyes beyond mere slits. And I’m grumpy.  Grumpy is not a good thing.  Just ask Vince.

But I suspect I will wake up as the day goes along and I will start thinking that hanging out with friends is far preferable to a nap.

We’ll see.

As long as I do NOT pick up the television remote. There is, after all, more to life than finding out if the Dillon Panthers win the District Championship.

If you don’t know the answer to that question, is your life any less fulfilling?  No, of course not. 

I can only hope that Netflix loses its appeal soon enough because, y’know, we have exciting lives to lead. And trivia to pursue. And flowers to plant. (Sigh. More on that one later.)

So here’s to a Netflix-less evening. Say it with me now: “Jane, put down the remote!”

Jane’s Early Morning Wake-Up Call

I woke up unexpectedly and wayyyyy too early this morning, so I’m tired. And the caffeine I’ve been pouring down my gullet hasn’t helped one iota.

I’m blaming the felines in the house because they woke me up shortly before 5AM by licking my cheek. Believe me, this was unexpected because the felines in the house have heretofore been banned from our bedroom. So you can imagine how startling this particular wake-up call was. Vince, by the way, never ever wakes me up in the morning by licking my cheek.

Speaking of my dear husband, perhaps I should be blaming him for the early wake-up call since he’s the one who left the bedroom door open, which allowed the little monsters access to the room. Not to mention access to my cheek.

We’ve banned them from the bedroom because we’re trying to keep our comforter, which we received as a wedding gift, from being shredded by their little killer kitty claws. (Say that five times fast.)

So far we’ve managed to keep it shred-and snag-free. And I believe my behavior once the sandpapery little tongue came in contact with my cheek was enough to convince the kittens that they did NOT wish to remain in the bedroom to explore any further. I shot straight up in bed and shrieked “Eeeeek!” because I wasn’t even dreaming about a kitten licking my cheek.

Their response was to do that peculiar-but-funny cat maneuver of launching themselves vertically in the air with claws extended and fur and tail standing straight up. Without touching ground, they then scampered out of the bedroom.

Meanwhile, I fumbled around for my glasses and then trudged downstairs to give them some food in the hopes that they would leave me alone and I could get at least a little cat-nap (ha) on the couch before I had to officially start my day.

What I failed to do was shut the bedroom door after I left the room.

I gave them their morning portion of kitten chow, which always makes me laugh. Why? Because they act as if they’ve never seen food before and they’re squeaking (Jinx) and meowing (Twinks) as if they’re absolutely starving! (I’m feeding them according to our vet’s instructions, so they shouldn’t be “absolutely starving.” But this is beside the point.)

They wolfed down their chow while I pulled a fuzzy throw over myself and attempted to close my eyes. Moments later, they snapped open again because I could hear only a faint jingling of the little bells on their collars. My crack intellect told me that they were getting into mischief beyond my immediate reach.

So I snuck upstairs and discovered them back in the bedroom where they were launching themselves off the bedside table and onto the bed. Sigh.

Somehow I managed to herd them out of the bedroom. Then I slipped back inside, shut the door, turned off the light and jumped back in bed.

Except I couldn’t sleep anymore. I dozed a little bit, perhaps, but I couldn’t get settled back down.

Other than a little incident when applying mascara this morning (the brush should never go directly into one’s eye), I seem to be unscathed by my lack of sleep. But I’m pretty glad that I’m wearing boots today – they seem to be keeping me a little more stable. If I’d worn my slip-on moccasins, I suspect I would be swaying on my feet. And it’s a good thing I’m spending the majority of my time sitting down.

Anyway, I’m sure I’ll wake up. Eventually. Meanwhile, I sort of wish I was at home today. Why? Because every time I saw those kittens dozing, I think I’d be tempted to go over and wake them up by blowing in their faces. Or by banging on some pots and pans. Or by slamming a door.

I’d try licking their little cheeks, but they’d probably (a) like it, and (b) think the other kitten was giving her a bath. But mostly (c), I don’t need to deal with a hairball today.

Cup O’ Sludge?

I woke up this morning wishing it were Saturday so I could sleep until noon. No such luck as it’s only Wednesday. I’m so sleepy I’m doing that head bobbing thing and I’m struggling to keep my eyes open, but they keep threatening to slide shut on me. The only thing saving me is knowing how much it would hurt if I gave in to sleep causing my head to smack onto the desk. Plus, I’d wake up with a keyboard imprint on my forehead and that’s really not a good look.

See, Vince just started a new job today and had to be up way early. Before dawn’s early light even. I think he got up just about the time I used to go to bed in my former night-owl life, or at least it seems that way. And neither of us slept very well last night.

I can’t even imagine how sleepy Vince is, but he’s probably focusing on the task at hand and will deal with it later. Probably with a nice long nap in his recliner, but that’s just a guess.

I’m happy he has a new job, but I’m selfishly thinking about how my life is changing.

I’ve mentioned before how Vince made breakfast for me every morning and brought me a cup of coffee while I was getting ready for work. He’d pack the lunch that we’d prepared the evening before into my insulated lunch bag and he’d place our morning vitamins by our plates along with a big glass of water so our bodies would be loaded up with every vitamin in the alphabet for the day.

Yeah, well, none of that is happening anymore. And I’m feeling a little sorry for myself.

It’s not like I didn’t take care of myself for years before Vince entered my life. I can certainly slap a slice of bread in the toaster and can probably even butter it without assistance. But I’m more likely to grab a breakfast bar to eat on the go. And while I can put my salad in a lunch bag all by myself, I’ll miss those little love notes he’d write on my napkin. On my own, daily vitamin-taking was hit or miss at best. And as for my actually cooking breakfast in a pan on the actual stove? Please.

So it was nice having someone take care of me for a little while.

But the worst thing is going to be fixing my own coffee. I’m no good at it. For decades I refused to drink the stuff because, to me, coffee tastes like sludge. Not that I specifically know what sludge tastes like – but let’s just say I wasn’t enjoying the flavor.

Instead, I was a Diet Coke Queen who started my day with a can. Or three. But then I started getting headaches in the morning and Vince convinced me to give coffee another try. He had to load it up with soy milk and hazelnut flavoring and top it off with a dollop of whipped cream, but I eventually I gave in. Grudgingly.

And then the headaches stopped. Even better, I discovered that coffee has more caffeine than soda, which – hey – keeps a body awake for most of the day! That was some happy news right there. And since I’ve been drinking coffee my head has never come close to smacking my desk. So I figured I was now a former Diet Coke Queen.

But when I try to fix my own cup of coffee, I invariably get the mixture wrong – too much flavoring or not enough soy milk. Sigh. Apparently I need a remedial coffee preparation course. Especially after this morning’s fiasco. The coffee was literally undrinkable. Thus, my sleepy state today.

There may be some positives coming out of this new schedule, though. I’m thinking of getting up earlier so I can head to the gym and get in a morning workout. That’s something I used to do in my former single life and I can probably do it again since no one will be at home anymore lovingly scrambling me an egg.

But I’m definitely gonna have to figure out the caffeine thing first. I read something recently about how apples actually work better at keeping a person awake than coffee (or Diet Coke).

Hmmm…I think I’ll head over to Kroger’s and stock up on some Red Delicious apples. And…maybe I’ll also pick up a 12-pack of Diet Coke. Just in case.