Sleep is an issue for me. Apparently an insomniac in utero, my father was forced to sleep on the couch as I held gymnastic tournaments in my mothers womb that kept him awake otherwise. These efforts led to a knot in the umbilical cord after a birthing that had me breach than not breach than pulled out by a pair of forceps.
I slept lightly as a child and only after extensive sessions of rocking in my crib as I pounded my head on the headboard whilst singing at the top of my lungs.
All through my life sleep, good sleep, has eluded me.
Last night, as I unfitfully dozed, the gods must have gotten bored.
"Look, she's sleeping."
"Almost."
"Isn't she an insomniac?"
"Usually."
"Well, can't have her breaking with protocol."
Down came the lamp from the headboard onto my head.
I actually managed to doze off again after taking an aspirin and righting the lamp.
Down came the lamp on the side of my head it had missed before.
As I sprang up in my bed the distant sound of laughter filled my ears.
4 comments:
Thanks for the Pat Travers reference. Haven't thought of him for years. I do have a story about him that... well... nevermind.
I'm glad somebody got that.
Expect to be cornered as stories are extracted through a combination of begging, twittering and torture with bad poetry as a last resort.
I'd sing you a lullaby, only my voice might make matters worse :)
And we'll ignore the webland/typing issue altogether
I used to sleep so soundly as a child that I awoke one Sunday morning to find my parents had moved the bedroom furniture (wardrobe, drawers et al) and even lifted the bed onto another wall.
Thats quite a shock to wake up in a different place but not be a party to the moving !
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