PROVO Long after midnight–Still wound up after a great Lia Sophia party. Great friends, great product, pretty decent refreshments, stimulating conversation and just a really good time. I substitute post for a friend flat on her back with a broken foot, worry a bit about anotherfriend down with a sore back, flip through the paper (Star Jones is being coy about her new look and apparently “I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry” really stinks and “Hairpsray”is absolutely fabulous.) and a catalog or two then finally turn out the lights.
PROVO 1:30 a.m.–My eyes are shut, but still wide open. I’m deliberately trying to relax my brow, loosen my limbs and breathe deeply. Hoping the effort will be enough to allow me to drift off. It does not. I’m trying to remember to pay some bills tomorrow. Envisioning all our financial obligations lining up like sheep to jump over the bed. Wondering what we will feed the missionaries and how to time work so I’ll have time to fix something nice. Worrying a bit about how I will function at work on only 4 or 5 hours sleep.
PROVO 3:20 a.m.–Still wide awake, I’m tired of fighting it. The longer I lose the battle the more worked up I get over the war. I open up the computer, hoping to wind myself down. Dimming the brightness to minimal, I surf a bit. (Apparently La Lohan has turned herself in. I lament for a moment about how she’s turning out; she was such a sweet little girl.) Post a comment at Blog Segullah.
PROVO 3:50 a.m.–I turn off the computer–knowing full well what people think about people alone with their computers in the middle of the night. I try again. To no avail. Now I’m worrying about trying to function at work on only 2 or 3 hours of sleep.
PROVO 4:45 a.m.–Now I’m just bored. I get up. Straighten up the living room in the dark. Put a few of my dining room chairs back. Adjust the slip cover on my antique sofa. I could do the dishes, but that would make too much noise. I putter around, alone in the dark. Sit back in the recliner and wait for the rest that never comes. I feel compelled to go tweeze my eyebrows, but know the cardinal rule of insomnia–no bright lights. Contemplate the possible consequences of tweezing one’s eyebrows in the dark and decide that’s one more thing that can wail until daylight. Think about going in to work for a couple of hours, but realize that will just make it a really long day.
PROVO 5:27 a.m.–Dawn is just beginning to break. In about 30 minutes my oldest will be getting up and going to work. I may be able to doze off and on a bit before I go to work, but at this rate I may not. The neighborhood is starting to stir. The newspaper hits the door with a loud clunk. I’m starting to feel the nausea that comes with extreme insomnia. My eyes hurt. And my head is feeling a little fuzzy. In just a couple of hours I’ll somehow need to be able to pull off cheerful and competent for a full day’s work.
It’s been a long day already and it’s not even daylight yet.
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