I bring it on myself
The sleep, she is elusive.
Just the other day, I tried to poison Bruce and myself. It all started with a cold snap in California. Not exactly much ado about nothing (as a side note, I love that in Shakespearian English “ado” is a euphemism for virginity. Good ol’ Will was so punny), but not nearly as deadly as the news would have us all believe, the temperature dropped to freezing. Being the flower-pot gardener that I am, I planted my next-year’s blooms in October only to see them bloom in January. There is a new rose bud about to open, the tulips have pushed through, the snow pea tendrils are twining around the African daisies and I have no idea what the other pot is, but it too is growing. Suffice it to say, I was concerned that a freezing temperature would kill off all the new growth. So, after I heard the news, I dragged everything into the living-room and went about my day.
While doing the dishes I killed a gnat. And then there were two in the bedroom, and one in the office. After two days of swatting for our lives, Bruce and I started looking for the culprit: the garbage can was recently bleached, and we rarely use the in-sink disposal, no food on the counter and no dirty dishes in any other room. Suddenly (I think in terms of great suddenness even though rarely things happen suddenly. I was explaining this to Bruce and by way of example I said, “It’s not often that events are sudden. I mean, it’s not like ‘Suddenly, the cat fell down.’” Bruce has taken to mocking me with suddenly.) I recalled the time from this past summer wherein I was the girl with the bugs. I realized how damp the soil in the pots was and knew I must have brought the gnats in with the plants.
Mind you, this is the point in the story where I must confess that Bruce suggested that the plants were the problem and I insisted that the gnats came before the plants and I suppose that when I get to heaven and God gives me the chicken or the egg quiz, I will fail that too, because I was soooo sure that my plants would never infest the house. Ooops. Also, you need to know that the rest of this story takes place approximately 15 seconds before we go to bed.
I remembered that the last time I cleared up the gnats with a little raid and by letting the potting soil dry out to kill off the larvae. And then just to be sure, I got the can out and sprayed the plants. Then I took a big sniff to see what it smelled like. Of Raid. That I sprayed in the living-room. Right before we went to bed. Even though the instructions on the canister clearly indicate that Raid is toxic and you should evacuate the house after spraying.
So Bruce and I end up trapped in the bedroom for the evening, which is fine because that’s where we sleep. But then, and this is a spoiler so anyone who hasn’t watched Gray’s Anatomy and might want to should stop reading now, Bruce snores, like Meredith Gray. And he uses those nose strips. And just like in the show, there is a 5 minute grace period and it’s all back to snore city. There is a throat spray and that doesn’t work either. I spend half my night rolling him over (and I never walk away with any proceeds, not like back in the day when I needed cab fare home and I would roll the guy of the moment for his wallet) and the other half begging him to stop snoring. For the record, Bruce has no recollection of any of these night time interactions. (The funniest is the time where I touched his back to get him to roll over and he threw back the covers and LEAPT out of bed. I then laughed and said, “Well, that’s new.” To which he responded by getting back in bed, clothes-lining me with his arm across my neck and then used him arm as a grapple hook and wrestled me to his chest. After I stopped laughing I realized that I couldn’t really breathe and wormed my way out from under him. But it still is super funny)
And I get that sometimes we all get congested. I myself have woken up to a snort, there was a specific period of my life, which I refer to as Junior year in high-school where I used my Western Civ. class to catch up on missed sleep and was known to jerk awake with a snort. I am not proud. Anyway. I get it, people snore.
Bruce is a whole different level. At a certain point I get tired of trying to sleep, usually about 5 AM and I find my way to the couch. Except a few nights ago, what with all the poisonous spray in there, I really am trapped. I can’t even blame someone else. I was the one who wanted to smell the Raid.
The result is that I have the most awkward sleep schedule. I know that I will have to do something about this once I start working, but for the time being, I get some good sleep between 9 AM and 5 PM. These are basically the hours that Bruce spends at work. I get up in time to sort out dinner and watch some prime time television.
If you’re observant you’ll have noted that I am writing this at 4 AM. I wonder if I took some sleeping pills if I would sleep though the noise?