January 9: The Blackness, Sleepless in the U. P., Piece of Peace

A dozen times during the night Wilbur woke and stared into the blackness, listening to the sounds and trying to figure out what time it was.  A barn is never perfectly quiet.  Even at midnight there is usually something stirring.

Wilbur is waiting for dawn.  Charlotte has promised to reveal herself when the sun rises, and the little pig can't wait to meet his new friend.  So he sleeps fitfully.  He listens to the sounds of the night.  The rat gnawing.  The goose chuckling.  The night stretches on forever, like Miley Cyrus' 15 minutes of fame.

I have always been a light sleeper.  Any little noise can wake me up.  The furnace kicking on.  My son farting in his bed.  My daughter grinding her teeth.  I try to combat the distractions.  I wear a sleep mask.  I do deep breathing.  I've tried listening to my iPod; I woke up with a Doris Day song blasting my eardrums.  And, of course, the time I get the most tired is about an hour before my alarm is set to go off.  Just call me "Sleepless in the U.P."

Last night, I didn't sleep well, despite the fact that I took a sleeping pill.  Too much on my mind.  The impending start of the new semester.  The dwindling days of my vacation.  The caramel corn in the kitchen.   The new season of Girls.  The crap at church.  Fitful doesn't even begin to describe my night.

I did go back to bed once I got the kids off to school this morning and made a valiant attempt to enter R.E.M. sleep.  Didn't happen.  I sort of flipped from my left side to my back to my right side and so forth.  I dozed.  Woke up.  Fretted.  Dozed off again.  More fretting.  I gave up after a few hours.

Right now, at 11:44 p.m., I am pleasantly tired.  I should go to bed right now, but I know, as soon as my head hits a pillow, that my brain will decide to go on safari.  I wish I could sleep like my son or daughter or wife.  Nothing disturbs them.  If the phone rings in the middle of the night, I'm the only one who jumps out of bed.  Smoke detectors are useless in my house.  I'm the only person who would hear them.

I don't want to be the human smoke detector tonight.  I'd prefer not to lie awake like Wilbur, staring into the blackness.  I want my piece of mind to be peace of mind tonight.

Maybe Saint Marty should make himself a nice hot toddy and go to bed.  Heavy on the toddy, light on the hot.

Maybe I should skip the hot altogether